BUFFALO  BILL 

andthe 

OVERLAND  TRAIL 

\  EDWIN  L.SABIN 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE 
OVERLAND  TRAIL 


The  American   Trail  Blazers 

"THE  STORY  GRIPS  AND  THE  HISTORY  STICKS" 

These  books  present  in  the  form  of  vivid  and  fascinating 
fiction,  the  early  and  adventurous  phases  of  American 
history.  Each  volume  deals  with  the  life  anc*  adventures 
of  one  of  the  great  men  who  made  that  history,  or  with 
some  one  great  event  in  which,  perhaps,  several  heroic 
characters  were  involved.  The  stories,  though  based  upon 
accurate  historical  fact,  are  rich  in  color,  full  of  dramatic 
action,  and  appeal  to  the  imagination  of  the  red-blooded 
man  or  boy. 

Each  volume  illustrated  in  color  and  black  and  white. 

INTO  MEXICO  WITH  GENERAL  SCOTT 
LOST  WITH  LIEUTENANT  PIKE 

GENERAL  CROOK  AND  THE  FIGHTING 
APACHES 

OPENING  THE  WEST  WITH  LEWIS  AND 
CLARK 

WITH  CARSON  AND  FREMONT 
DANIEL  BOONE:  BACKWOODSMAN 

BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND 
TRAIL 

CAPTAIN  JOHN  SMITH 
DAVID  CROCKETT:  SCOUT 
ON  THE  PLAINS  WITH  CUSTER 
GOLD  SEEKERS  OF  '49 
WITH  SAM  HOUSTON  IN  TEXAS 

WITH   GEORGE    WASHINGTON    INTO 
THE  WILDERNESS 

IN  THE  RANKS  OF  OLD  HICKORY 


AS    LAME   BUFFALO    HAD   SAID,   THE   "LITTLE  ONE"    SHOT  THE 

STRAIGHTEST   OF   ANY 

Page  29 


BUFFALO  BILL 

AND  THE 

OVERLAND  TRAIL 

BEING  THE  STORY  OF  HOW  BOY  AND  MAN  WORKED  HARD 
AND  PLAYED  HARD  TO  BLAZE  THE  WHITE  TRAIL,  BY 
WAGON  TRAIN,  STAGE  COACH  AND  PONY  EXPRESS,  ACROSS 
THE  GREAT  PLAINS  AND  THE  MOUNTAINS  BEYOND,  THAT 
THE  AMERICAN  REPUBLIC  MIGHT  EXPAND  AND  FLOURISH 

BY 

EDWIN  L.  SABIN 

AUTHOR   OF  "WITH  CARSON  AND  FREMONT," 
"ON  THE  PLAINS  WITH  CUSTER,"    ETC. 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BT 

CHARLES  H.  STEPHENS 

AND  A  PORTRAIT 


I  hear  the  tread  of  pioneers 

Of  nations  yet  to  be — 
The  first  low  wash  of  waves  where  soon 

Shall  roll  a  human  sea. 


PHILADELPHIA  &  LONDON 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


,  1914,  BY  J.  B.  LIPP1NCOTT  COMPANY 

SEVENTEENTH  IMPRESSION 


PRINTED  IN  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


TO  THE 
OLD-TIME  PLAINS  FREIGHTERS 

WHO  UNDER  THE  ROUGH  TITLE," BULL  WHACKERS,"  PLOD- 
DING AT  THREE  MILES  AN  HOUR,  BRIDGED  WITH  THEIR 
CANVAS-COVERED  SUPPLY  WAGONS  THE  THOUSAND  HOS- 
TILE MILES  WHICH  SEPARATED  DESTITUTION  FROM  PLENTY 


FOREWORD 


HISTORY  is  the  record  made  by  men  and  women ;  so 
the  story  of  the  western  plains  is  the  story  of  Buffalo 
Bill  and  of  those  other  hard  workers  who  with  their 
deeds  and  even  with  their  lives  bought  the  great  country 
for  the  use  of  us  to-day. 

The  half  of  what  Buffalo  Bill  did,  in  the  days  of 
the  Overland  Trail,  has  never  been  told,  and  of  course 
cannot  be  told  in  one  short  book.  He  began  very 
young,  before  the  days  of  the  Overland  Stage;  and  he 
was  needed  long  after  the  railroad  had  followed  the 
stage.  The  days  when  the  Great  Plains  were  being 
opened  to  civilized  people  required  brave  men  and 
boys — yes,  and  brave  women  and  girls,  too.  There 
was  glory  enough  for  all.  Everything  related  in  this 
book  happened  to  Buffalo  Bill,  or  to  those  persons  who 
shared  in  his  dangers  and  his  deeds.  And  while  he 
may  not  remember  the  other  boy,  Dave  Scott,  whom 
he  inspired  to  be  brave  also,  he  will  be  glad  to  know 
that  he  helped  Davy  to  be  a  man. 

That  is  one  great  reward  in  life:  to  inspire  and 
encourage  others. 

EDWIN  L.  SABIN 
SAN  DIEGO  CALIFORNIA,  June  i,  1914 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  TALL  BULL  SIGNALS:  "ENEMIES!" 17 

II.  THE  HERO  OF  THE  MULE  FORT 30 

III.  WITH  THE  WAGON  TRAIN 42 

IV.  VISITING  BILLY  CODY 58 

V.  DAVY  GOES  ON  HERD 71 

VI.  DAVY  HAS  AN  ADVENTURE 83 

VII.  DAVY  CHANGES  JOBS 100 

VIII.  THE  GOLD  FEVER 1 14 

IX.  THE  HEE-HAW  EXPRESS 127 

X.  "PIKE'S  PEAK  OR  BUST" 140 

XI.  SOME  HALTS  BY  THE  WAY 157 

XII.  PERILS  FOR  THE  HEE-HAWS  , 171 

XIII.  THE  CHERRY  CREEK  DIGGIN'S 188 

XIV.  DAVY  SIGNS  AS  "EXTRA" 204 

XV.  FREIGHTING  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS 218 

XVI.  YANK  RAISES  TROUBLE 231 

XVII.  DAVY  "THE  BULL  WHACKER " 244 

XVIII.  BILLY  CODY  TURNS  UP  AGAIN 257 

XIX.  DAVY  MAKES  ANOTHER  CHANGE 267 

XX.  FAST  TIME  TO  CALIFORNIA 280 

XXI.  "  PONY  EXPRESS  BILL  " 293 

XXII.  CARRYING  THE  GREAT  NEWS 305 

XXIII.  A  BRUSH  ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE 318 

XXIV.  BUFFALO  BILL  Is  CHAMPION 336 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

As  Lame  Buffalo  Had  Said,  the  "Little  One  "  Shot  the  Straight- 

est  of  Any Frontispiece 

William  Frederick  Cody  ("Buffalo  Bill"  ) 13 

"  Two;  Give  Two,"  he  Urged,  Meaningly.     "  Take  Rest  " 98 

"Give  It  to  Them!    Split  'em !    Split  'em!  " 155 

" Why— Hello,  Billy!    Is  That  You?  " 261 

•'That's  Right.    Fight  'em  off,  Davy  " 334 


WILLIAM  FREDERICK  CODY 
"BUFFALO  BILL" 

From  a  photograph  taken  in  1871,  in  the  possession  of  Clarence  S.  Paine,  Esq 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE 


WILLIAM  FREDERICK  CODY 

"  BUFFALO  BILL  " 

Celebrated   American  plains-day   express   rider, 
hunter,  guide  and  army  scout,  who  before  he  was 
fourteen  years  of  age  had  won  credit  for  man's 
pluck  and  shrewdness.    In  his  youth  a  dutiful 
and  helpful  son;  in  his  later  years  an  exhibitor 
of  Wild  West  scenes,  with  which  he  has  toured 
the  world.    Early  known  as  "  Will,"  "  Little  Billy," 
"  Pony  Express  Bill,"  "  Scout  Bill  Cody  " ;  by  the 
Indians  termed  "  Pa-he-haska  "  ("Long  Hair")  ;  but, 
the  globe  around,  famed  as  "  Buffalo  Bill." 

Born  on  the  family  farm  near  LeClaire,  Scott  County, 
Eastern  Iowa,  February  26,  1845. 

Father:  Isaac  Cody.     Mother:  Mary  Ann  Cody. 

Childhood  spent  in  Scott  County,  Iowa:  at  LeClaire  and  at 
Walnut  Grove. 

When  eight  years  old,  in  1853,  is  removed  with  the  family 
overland  to  Kansas. 

In  the  Salt  Creek  Valley,  near  the  Kickapoo  Indian  reserva- 
tion and  Fort  Leavenworth,  Eastern  Kansas,  Mr.  Cody  takes  up 
a  claim  and  is  Indian  trader. 

Young  William  is  reared  among  the  Free  State  troubles 
of  1853-1861,  when  the  slave  men  and  the  anti-slave  men  strove 
against  one  another  to  obtain  possession  of  Kansas.  Mr.  Cody, 
the  father,  was  of  the  Free  State  party. 

13 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE 

Aged  10,  summer  of  1855,  Billy  engages  at  $25  a  month  to 
herd  cattle,  just  outside  of  Leavenworth,  for  the  freighting 
firm  of  Russell  &  Majors.  Gives  the  money,  $50,  to  his  mother. 

Is  instructed  at  home  by  Miss  Jennie  Lyons,  the  family 
teacher;  attends  district  school. 

Aged  ii.  summer  of  1856,  makes  his  first  trip  into  the  plains, 
as  herder  for  a  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  bull  train. 

Continues  his  cattle  herding;  and  aged  12,  in  May,  1857, 
makes  another  trip  across  the  plains,  as  herder  for  the  cattle 
with  a  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  outfit  bound  for  Salt  Lake, 
Utah.  Has  his  first  Indian  fight. 

The  same  summer  of  1857,  is  "  extra  man "  with  another 
Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  wagon  train  for  Utah.  Returning, 
has  his  second  Indian  fight. 

Arrives  home  again,  summer  of  1858.  Becomes  assistant 
wagon  master  with  a  fourth  train,  for  Fort  Laramie. 

Fall  of  1858,  aged  13,  joins  a  company  of  trappers  out  of 
Fort  Laramie, 

Winter  and  spring  of  1859,  attends  school  again,  to  please 
his  mother. 

To  the  Pike's  Peak  country  for  gold,   1859. 

Returns  home  to  see  his  mother;  and  then  spends  winter  of 
1859-1860  trapping  beaver  in  central  Kansas. 

Rides  Pony  Express,  1860-1861.  The  youngest  rider  on  the 
line. 

Ranger,  dispatch  bearer,  and  scout  in  the  Union  service,  in 
Kansas,  Missouri  and  the  Southwest,  1861-1863. 

Enlisted  in  Seventh  Kansas  Volunteer  Infantry,  1864,  and 
serves  with  it  until  close  of  the  war. 

14 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE 

Stage  driver  between  Kearney,  Nebraska,  and  Plum  Creek, 
35  miles  west,  1865-1866. 

Marries,  March  6,  1866,  Miss  Louisa  Frederici  of  St.  Louis. 

Proprietor  of  Golden  Rule  House  hotel  at  his  old  home  in 
Salt  Creek  Valley,  Kansas,  1866. 

Government  scout  at  Fort  Ellsworth,  Fort  Fletcher,  and 
Fort  Hays,  Kansas,  1866-1867. 

With  William  Rose,  a  construction  contractor,  promotes 
the  town-site  of  Rome,  near  Fort  Hays,  1867.  Rome  is  eclipsed 
by  Hayes  City,  its  rival. 

Earns  title  "  Buffalo  Bill "  by  supplying  the  work  gang 
of  the  Kansas  Pacific  Railroad  with  buffalo,  1867-1868.  In  18 
months  kills  4,280  buffalo. 

Becomes  Government  scout  with  headquarters  at  Fort  Larned, 
1868.  Performs  some  remarkable  endurance  rides  between  the 
posts  on  the  Arkansas  and  those  on  the  Kansas  Pacific  line. 
Once  covers  355  miles,  in  58  hours  of  riding  by  day  and  by 
night. 

Appointed  by  General  Sheridan  guide  and  chief  scout  for 
the  Fifth  Cavalry,  1868. 

Serves  with  the  Fifth  Cavalry  on  various  expeditions,  1868- 
1872.  Also  acts  as  guide  for  numerous  sportsmen  parties. 

Temporary  justice  of  the  peace  at  Fort  McPherson, 
Nebraska,  1871. 

Guide  for  the  Grand  Duke  Alexis  of  Russia,  on  a  celebrated 
hunting  tour  in  the  West,  1872. 

Guide  for  the  Third  Cavalry,  at  Fort  McPherson,  1872. 
Acts  as  guide  for  the  Earl  of  Dunraven,  and  other  distinguished 
sportsmen. 

Elected  on  the  Democratic  ticket  to  the  Nebraska  Legislature, 
1872. 

15 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE 

Resigns  from  the  Legislature  and  in  the  winter  of  1872-1873 
stars,  with  Texas  Jack,  as  an  actor  in  "The  Scouts  of  the 
Plains,"  a  melodrama  by  Ned  Buntline. 

Organizes  the  "  Buffalo  Bill  Combination,"  with  Texas  Jack 
and  Wild  Bill,  and  plays  melodrama  in  the  Eastern  cities,  1873- 
1874. 

During  1874-1876  continues  to  be  scout,  guide  and  actor, 
according  to  the  season. 

Takes  the  field  again  in  earnest  as  scout  for  the  Fifth 
Cavalry,  against  the  Sioux,  spring  of  1876.  Fights  his  noted 
duel  with  Chief  Yellow  Hand. 

In  partnership  with  Major  Frank  North,  of  the  Pawnee 
Government  Scouts,  establishes  a  cattle  ranch  near  North  Platte, 
Nebraska,  1877. 

Seasons  of  1876-1877-1878  resumes  his  theatrical  tours  in 
Western  melodrama,  portraying  the  late  Sioux  War  and  the 
incidents  of  the  Mountain  Meadow  Massacre  (1857). 

Takes  up  residence  at  North  Platte,  Nebraska,  spring  of 
1878.  Continues  to  hunt,  ranch,  and  act ;  writes  his  autobiography 
and  his  own  plays. 

In  1883  organizes  his  justly  celebrated  "  Wild  West "  com- 
bination, with  which  for  three  years  he  tours  the  United  States. 
In  1886  he  takes  it  to  England,  and  in  1889  to  the  Continent. 

In  1888  appointed  brigadier  general  of  the  National  Guard 
of  Nebraska. 

In  1890  he  again  serves  as  chief  scout,  under  General  Nelson 
A.  Miles,  against  the  Sioux. 

Since  then,  the  "  Wild  West  Show,"  known  also  as  the 
"  Congress  of  Rough  Riders  of  the  World,"  has  continued  its 
career  as  a  spectacle  and  an  education.  Colonel  Cody  (still 
known  as  "  Buffalo  Bill ")  is  ranked  as  one  of  America's  leading 
characters  in  public  life.  He  has  shown  what  a  boy  can  do 
to  win  honor  and  success,  even  if  he  starts  in  as  only  a  cattle- 
herder,  with  little  schooling  and  no  money. 

16 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE 
OVERLAND  TRAIL 


i 

TALL  BULL  SIGNALS:  "ENEMIES!" 


SINCE  early  dawn  forty  Indians  and  one  little  red- 
headed white  boy  had  been  riding  amidst  the  yellow 
gullies  and  green  table-lands  of  western  Nebraska, 
about  where  the  North  Platte  and  the  South  Platte 
Rivers  come  together.  The  most  of  these  Indians  were 
Cheyennes ;  the  others  were  a  few  Arapahoes  and  two 
or  three  Sioux.  The  name  of  the  little  red-headed 
boy  was  David  Scott. 

He  was  guarded  by  the  two  squaws  who  had  been 
brought  along  to  work  for  the  thirty-eight  men.  They 
worked  for  the  men,  little  Dave  worked  for  them; 
and  frequently  they  struck  him,  and  told  him  that 
when  the  Cheyenne  village  was  reached  again  he  would 
be  burnt. 

In  the  bright  sunshine,  amidst  the  great  expanse 
of  open,  uninhabited  country,  the  Indian  column,  rid- 
ing with  its  scouts  out,  made  a  gallant  sight.  The 
ponies,  bay,  dun,  black,  white,  spotted,  were  adorned 
2  17 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 


with  jfaint,  giy1  S'tf earners  and  jingly  pendants.  The 
rneruw!er£  {b£relieaile^  and  bare  bodied;  on  this  warm 
day  of  June  they  had  thrown  off  their  robes  and 
blankets.  But  what  they  lacked  in  clothing,  they  sup- 
plied in  decoration. 

Down  the  parting  of  the  smoothly-combed  black 
hair  was  run  vermilion ;  vermilion  and  ochre  and  blue 
and  white  and  black  streaked  coppery  forehead,  high 
cheek-bones  and  firm  chin,  and  lay  lavishly  over  brawny 
chest  and  sinewy  arms.  At  the  parting  of  the  braids 
were  stuck  feathers — common  feathers  for  the  braves, 
tipped  eagle  feathers  for  the  chiefs.  The  long  braids 
themselves  were  wrapped  in  otter-skin  and  red  flan- 
nel. From  ears  hung  copper  and  brass  and  silver 
pendants.  Upon  wrists  and  upper  arms  were  broad 
bracelets  and  armlets  of  copper.  Upon  feet  were 
beaded  moccasins  worked  in  tribal  designs.  The  fash- 
ion of  the  paint  and  the  style  of  the  moccasins  it  was 
which  said  that  these  riders  were  Cheyennes. 

The  column  had  no  household  baggage  and  no 
children  (except  little  Dave)  and  no  dogs;  and  it  had 
no  women  other  than  just  the  two.  The  men  were 
painted  and  although  they  rode  bareheaded,  from  the 
saddle-horn  of  many  tossed  crested,  feathered  bon- 
nets with  long  tails.  These  were  war-bonnets.  All 
the  bows  were  short,  thick  bows.  These  were  war- 
bows.  All  the  arrows  in  the  full  quivers  were  barbed 
arrows.  Hunting  arrows  were  smooth.  The  lances 
were  tufted  and  showy.  The  shields,  slung  to  left 

18 


TALL  BULL  SIGNALS:  "ENEMIES!" 

arm,  were  the  thick,  boastfully  painted  war  shields. 
The  ponies  were  picked  ponies;  war  ponies.  Yes, 
anybody  with  half  an  eye  could  have  read  that  this 
was  a  war  party,  not  a  hunting  party  or  a  village  on 
the  move. 

Davy  could  have  proven  it  Wasn't  he  here,  rid- 
ing between  two  mean  squaws?  And  look  at  the 
plunder,  from  white  people — some  of  it  from  his  own 
uncle  and  aunt,  all  of  it  from  the  "  whoa-haw  "  trains, 
as  the  Indians  had  named  the  ox-wagon  columns  of 
the  emigrants  and  freighters. 

Ever  since,  two  weeks  back,  these  Cheyennes  had 
so  suddenly  out-charged  upon  his  uncle's  wagon  and 
another,  strayed  from  the  main  column,  they  had  been 
looking  for  more  "  whoa-haws."  This  year,  1858,  and 
the  preceding  half  dozen  years  had  been  fine  ones  for 
Indians  in  search  of  plunder.  Thousands  of  white 
people  were  crossing  the  plains,  between  the  Missouri 
River  and  the  Rocky  Mountains;  their  big  canvas- 
covered  wagons  contained  curious  and  valuable  things, 
as  well  as  women  and  children.  They  were  drawn  by 
cattle  and  horses  or  mules,  and  behind  followed  large 
bands  of  other  cattle  and  horses  and  mules.  Some- 
times these  "  whoa-haw  "  people  fought  stoutly,  some- 
times they  had  no  chance  to  fight — as  had  been  the 
case  with  little  Dave's  uncle. 

Tall  Bull  was  the  young  chief  in  charge  of  the 
squad  that  had  attacked  the  two  wagons.  Now  Tall 
Bull  was  one  of  the  scouts  riding  on  the  flanks  and 

19 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

ahead  of  the  war  party,  so  as  to  spy  out  the  country. 
In  his  two  weeks  with  the  Cheyennes  Dave  had  learned 
them  well.  They  were  no  fools.  They  rode  cunningly. 
They  were  disciplined.  While  they  kept  to  the  low 
country  their  scouts  skirted  the  edges  of  the  higher 
country,  in  order  to  see  far.  By  wave  of  blanket  or 
movement  of  horse  these  keen-eyed  scouts  could 
signal  back  for  more  than  a  mile,  and  every  Indian  in 
the  column  could  read  the  signs.  Then  the  head  chief, 
Cut  Nose,  would  grunt  an  order,  and  his  young  men 
would  obey. 

The  march  was  threading  the  bottom  of  a  bushy 
ravine.  Cut  Nose,  head  chief,  led;  Bear- Who- Walks 
and  Lame  Buffalo,  sub-chiefs,  rode  with  him.  Behind 
filed  the  long  column.  In  the  rear  of  all  trailed  the 
two  squaws,  guarding  the  miserable  Davie. 

Suddenly  adown  the  column  travelled,  in  one  great 
writhe,  a  commotion.  A  scout,  to  the  right,  ahead, 
was  signalling.  He  was  Tall  Bull.  His  figure,  of 
painted  self  and  mottled  pony,  was  plainly  outlined  just 
at  the  juncture  of  brushy  rim  and  sky.  Now  he  had 
dismounted,  and  had  crept  forward,  half  stooped,  as 
if  the  better  to  see,  the  less  to  be  seen.  But  back  he 
scurried,  more  under  cover  of  the  ravine  edge;  stand- 
ing he  snatched  his  buffalo  robe  from  about  his  waist 
and  swung  it  with  the  gesture  that  meant  "  Some- 
body in  sight ! " 

He  sprang  to  his  spotted  pony,  and  down  he  came, 
riding  in  a  slow  zigzag  and  making  little  circles,  too. 

20 


TALL  BULL  SIGNALS:  "ENEMIES!" 

The  slow  zigzag  meant  "  No  hurry  "  and  the  little 
circles  meant  "  Not  many  strangers."  And  he  signed 
with  his  hand. 

However,  large  party  or  small  party,  the  news 
was  very  welcome.  All  the  other  scouts  sped  to  see 
what  Tall  Bull  had  seen.  From  side  ravines  out  rushed 
at  gallop  the  little  exploring  detachments.  Twas 
astonishing  how  fast  the  news  spread.  The  two  squaws 
jabbered  eagerly;  and  the  aides  of  Cut  Nose  went 
galloping  to  reconnoitre. 

As  for  Cut  Nose  himself,  he  halted,  and  thereby 
halted  the  column,  while  he  composedly  sat  to  receive 
reports.  The  rear  gradually  pressed  forward  to  hear, 
and  the  squaws  strained  their  ears.  Davy  could  not 
understand,  but  this  is  what  was  said,  by  sign  and 
word,  when  Tall  Bull  had  arrived : 

"What  is  it?" 

"  White  men,  on  horses." 

"How  many?" 

"  Three." 

"How  far?" 

"A  short  pony  ride." 

"  What  are  they  doing?  " 

"  Travelling." 

"Any  baggage?" 

"  No." 

"  Are  they  armed  ?  " 

"Yes.    Guns." 

Cut  Nose  grunted  Now  Lame  Buffalo,  sub-chief, 
21 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

came  scouring  back.  He  had  seen  the  three  men.  It 
was  as  Tall  Bull  had  said.  Two  of  the  men  were 
large,  one  was  small.  They  were  riding  mules,  and 
were  dressed  in  "  whoa-haw  "  clothes,  so  they  were 
not  trappers  or  hunters,  but  probably  belonged  to  that 
"  whoa-haw  "  train  of  many  men  that  the  column  had 
sighted  travelling  east.  They  were  riding  as  if  they 
wished  to  catch  it.  But  they  could  be  reached  easily, 
said  Lame  Buffalo,  his  black  eyes  blazing.  Blazed  the 
black  eyes  of  all;  and  fiercest  were  the  snappy  black 
eyes  of  the  two  squaws.  The  three  "  whoa-haws  " 
could  be  reached  easily  by  following  up  a  side  ravine 
that  would  lead  out  almost  within  bow-shot.  Then 
the  white  men  would  be  cut  off  in  the  midst  of  a  fiat 
open  place  where  they  could  not  hide. 

"  Good,"  grunted  Cut  Nose ;  and  he  issued  short, 
rapid  orders.  Little  Dave  had  not  understood  the  words 
but  he  could  understand  the  gestures  and  signs  that 
made  up  more  than  half  the  talk;  and  he  could  under- 
stand the  bustle  that  followed.  The  Cheyennes,  the 
few  Arapahoes  and  Sioux,  were  preparing  themselve? 
for  battle. 

Blankets  and  robes  were  thrown  looser.  Leggings 
were  kicked  off,  to  leave  the  limbs  still  freer.  The 
rawhide  loops  by  which  the  riders  might  hang  to  the 
far  side  of  their  ponies  were  hastily  tested.  Quivers 
were  jerked  into  more  convenient  position.  Arrows 
were  loosened  in  them.  The  unstrung  bows  were 
strung.  The  two  warriors  who  had  old  guns  freshened 

m 


TALL  BULL  SIGNALS:  "ENEMIES!" 

the  priming  and  readjusted  the  caps  upon  the  nipples. 
Several  of  the  younger  warriors  hurriedly  slashed  face 
and  chest  anew  with  paint.  War  bonnets  were  set 
upon  heads;  their  feathered  tails  fell  nearly  to  the 
ground. 

With  a  single  eagle  glance  adown  his  force  Cut 
Nose,  raising  his  hand  as  signal,  dashed  away  up  the 
ravine.  After  him  dashed  all  his  array,  even  to  the 
two  squaws  and  little  Dave. 

Braids  tossed,  hoofs  thudded,  war  bonnets 
streamed,  and  every  painted  rider  leaned  forward,  avid 
for  the  exit  and  the  attack.  Dave's  heart  beat  high. 
He  was  afraid  for  the  white  men.  The  Cheyennes 
were  so  many,  so  eager,  and  so  fierce. 

The  scouts  before  kept  signing  that  all  was  well. 
The  white  men  evidently  were  riding  unconscious  of  a 
foe  close  at  hand.  At  the  side  ravine  Cut  Nose  darted 
in.  Its  farther  end  was  closed  by  brush  and  low  plum 
trees,  which  rose  to  fringe  the  plateau  above.  A  scout 
was  here,  peering,  watching  the  field.  He  was  Yellow 
Hand,  son  of  Cut  Nose.  He  signalled  "  Come !  Quick ! 
Enemy  here!  " 

Thus  urged,  up  the  slope  galloped  Cut  Nose,  Lame 
Buffalo,  Bear- Who-  Walks ;  galloped  all.  At  the 
top,  emerging,  Cut  Nose  flung  high  his  hand,  shaking 
his  war  bow.  Over  the  top  after  him  poured  the  rac- 
ing mass,  savage  in  paint  and  cloth  and  feather  and 
decorated  weapon.  Swept  onward  with  them  rode  little 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Dave,  jostled  between  the  two  squaws,  who  whipped 
his  pony  as  often  as  they  whipped  their  own. 

The  halloo  of  Cut  Nose  rose  vibrant 

"  Hi-yi-yi-yi-yi ;  yip  yip  yip !"  he  whooped,  exult- 
ant and  threatening. 

"  Hi-yi-yi-yi-yi ;  yip  yip  yip !  "  yelped  every  rider, 
the  squaws  chiming  in  more  piercingly  than  any  others. 

Out  from  the  plum  tree  grove  and  into  the  plateau 
they  had  burst,  and  went  charging  furiously. 

The  sun  was  shining  bright,  for  the  day  was 
glorious  June.  The  plateau  lay  bare,  save  for  the  grass 
dried  by  weather  and  the  few  clumps  of  sage  and 
greasewood.  And  there  they  were,  the  three  whites, 
stopped  short,  staring  and  for  the  moment  uncertain 
what  to  do. 

They  were  alone,  between  bending  blue  sky  and 
wide  plain ;  a  little  trio  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  expanse. 
As  the  scouts  had  claimed,  no  shelter  was  near.  At 
the  other  edge  of  the  plateau  flowed  the  North  Platte 
River,  but  too  distant  to  be  reached  now. 

Louder  pealed  the  whoops  of  the  warriors,  louder 
shrieked  the  shrill  voices  of  the  squaws,  as  onward 
charged,  headlong,  the  wild  company,  to  ride  over  the 
white  dogs  and  snatch  scalp  and  weapon. 

Almost  within  gunshot  swept  forward  the  attack. 
Already  had  spoken,  recklessly,  with  "  Bang !  Bang !  " 
the  guns  in  the  hands  of  the  two  excited  warriors. 
Were  the  white  men  going  to  run,  or  stand?  They 
were  going  to  stand,  for  they  had  vaulted  to  ground. 

24 


TALL  BULL  SIGNALS:  "ENEMIES!" 

One  of  them  was  small  enough  to  be  a  boy.  Three 
puffs  of  blue  smoke  jetted  from  them.  The  leading 
Indians  ducked  low — but  the  shots  had  not  been  for 
them !  Look !  Down  had  dropped  the  three  mules,  to 
lie  kicking  and  struggling. 

The  white  men  (yes,  one  was  a  boy!)  bent  over 
them,  stoutly  dragging  and  shoving;  and  next,  in  be- 
hind the  bodies  they  had  crouched.  Only  the  tops  of 
their  broad  hats  and  their  shoulders  could  be  described, 
and  their  gun  muzzles  projecting  before.  This,  then, 
was  their  fort:  the  three  dead  mules  arranged  in 
triangle !  Evidently  the  two  men,  and  perhaps  the  boy, 
had  fought  Indians  before.  Davy  felt  like  cheering; 
but  from  the  forty  throats  rang  a  great  shout  of  rage 
and  menace.  The  squaws  had  halted,  with  Dave,  to 
watch;  unchecked  and  unafraid  the  warriors  forged 
on,  straight  for  the  little  barricade. 

"  Kill !    Kill !  "  shrieked  the  squaws,  glaring. 

The  warriors  were  shooting  in  earnest;  arrows 
flew,  the  two  guns  again  belched.  The  charge  seemed 
almost  upon  the  fort,  when  from  it  puffed  the  jets 
of  smoke.  "Bang!  Bang!  Bang !"  drifted  dully  the 
reports ;  and  with  scarce  an  interval  followed  other  jets, 
rapid  and  sharp :  "  Bang !  Bang-bang !  Bang !  Bang !  " 

From  the  painted,  parted  lips  of  the  two  squaws  is- 
sued a  wilder,  different  note,  and  little  Dave  again 
felt  like  cheering;  for  from  their  saddles  had  lurched 
three  of  the  Cheyennes,  and  a  pony  also  had  pitched 
in  a  heap. 

25 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Cut  Nose  swerved;  he  and  every  warrior  flung 
themselves  to  the  pony  side  opposite  the  fort,  and 
parting,  the  column  split  as  if  the  fort  were  a  wedge. 
In  two  wings  they  went  scouring  right  and  left  of  it. 
Around  and  around  the  mule-body  triangle  they  rode, 
at  top  speed,  in  a  great  double  circle,  plying  their  bows. 

Their  arrows  streamed  in  a  continuous  shower, 
pelting  the  fort.  They  struck,  quivering,  in  the  mule 
bodies  and  in  the  ground.  Now  from  every  savage 
throat  rang  another  shout — high,  derisive.  On  their 
ponies  the  squaws  capered,  and  shook  their  blanket 
ends.  An  arrow  was  quivering  in  a  new  spot — the 
shoulder  of  one  of  the  whites.  Now  Davy  felt  like 
sobbing.  But  it  was  not  in  the  shoulder  of  the  boy; 
it  was  in  the  shoulder  of  the  man  beyond  him,  and 
facing  the  other  way.  However,  that  was  bad  enough. 

Still,  the  man  was  not  disabled;  not  he.  His  gun 
remain  levelled,  and  neither  the  boy  nor  the  other 
man  paid  any  attention  to  him.  The  three  occasion- 
ally shot,  but  lying  low  against  their  ponies'  sides  the 
Indians,  galloping  fast,  were  hard  to  hit. 

Cut  Nose  raised  his  hand  again,  and  from  the  circle 
he  veered  outward.  The  circle  instantly  scattered, 
and  after  their  chief  galloped  every  warrior. 

Forward  hammered  the  two  squaws,  with  venge- 
ful look  at  little  Dave  which  bade  him  not  to  lag.  The 
warriors  had  gathered  in  a  group,  out  of  gunshot  from 
the  fort.  Cut  Nose  was  furious.  Indians  hate  to  lose 

26 


TALL  BULL  SIGNALS:  "ENEMIES!" 

warriors ;  and  there  were  three,  and  a  pony,  stretched 
upon  the  plain. 

"Are  you  all  old  women?"  scolded  Chief  Cut 
Nose,  while  Dave  tried  to  guess  at  what  was  being 
shouted,  and  his  two  guardians  pressed  to  the  edge 
of  the  circle.  "  You  let  three  whites,  one  of  whom  is 
very  little,  beat  us  ?  The  dogs  will  bark  at  us  when  we 
go  back  and  the  squaws  will  whip  us  through  the 
village.  Everybody  at  home  will  laugh.  They  will 
say :  '  These  are  not  Cheyennes.  They  are  sick 
Osages!  They  are  afraid  to  take  a  scalp,  and  when 
an  enemy  points  a  stick  at  them,  they  run ! '  Bah !  Am 
I  a  chief,  and  are  you  warriors,  or  are  we  all  ghosts?  " 

Panting,  the  warriors  listened.  They  murmured 
and  shrugged,  as  the  words  stung. 

"  Those  whites  shoot  very  straight.  The  little  one 
shoots  the  straightest  of  any.  They  must  have  many 
guns.  They  shoot  once  and  without  loading  they  shoot 
again,"  argued  Lame  Buffalo. 

"  You  talk  foolish,"  thundered  Cut  Nose.  "  These 
whites  cannot  keep  shooting.  All  we  need  to  do  is  to 
charge  swift  and  not  stop,  and  when  we  reach  them 
their  guns  will  be  empty.  Shall  Cheyennes  draw  back 
and  leave  three  brothers  and  a  good  pony  lying  on  the 
prairie?  These  whites  will  go  on  and  join  their  whoa- 
haw  train,  and  tell  how  they  three,  from  behind  dead 
mules,  fought  off  the  whole  Cheyenne  nation !  Or  shall 
we  send  our  squaws  against  them,  to  kill  them!  The 
little  white  boy  will  laugh,"  and  he  pointed  at  Dave. 

87 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  He  will  not  want  to  be  a  Cheyenne ;  he  will  stay 
white.     Cheyennes  are  cowards." 

Through  the  jostling  company  ran  a  hot  murmur ; 
but  Lame  Buffalo,  especially  scolded,  almost  burst. 

"  No !  "  he  yelled.  "  Cheyennes  are  not  cowards ! 
I  am  a  Cheyenne.  I  can  kill  those  three  whites  myself. 
I  will  go  alone.  I  ask  no  help." 

He  whirled  his  pony ;  he  burst  from  the  dense  ring, 
and  tossing  high  his  plumed  lance,  with  a  tremendous 
shout  he  launched  himself  straight  for  the  mule  fort. 
He  did  not  ride  alone;  no,  indeed!  Answering  his 
shout,  and  imitating  his  gesture,  every  warrior  fol- 
lowed, vying  to  outstrip  him.  Now  woe  for  the  whites. 
Dave's  heart  beat  so  as  well-nigh  to  choke  him.  His 
eyes  leaped  to  the  fort. 

The  two  men  and  the  boy  in  the  little  triangle  had 
been  busy.  They  had  rearranged  the  carcasses  to  give 
more  protection;  the  arrow  had  been  pulled  from  the 
shoulder  of  the  wounded  man ;  he  was  as  alert  as  if  he 
had  not  been  hurt  at  all;  and  over  the  mule  bodies 
jutted  the  gun  muzzles,  trained  upon  the  Indian  charge. 

Could  that  tiny  low  triangle  formed  by  three  dead 
mules  outlast  such  a  yelling,  tearing  mob,  sweeping 
down  upon  it  ?  Could  it  beat  back  Lame  Buffalo  alone 
— that  splendid  feather-crowned  horseman,  riding  like 
a  demon,  shouting  like  a  wolf  ?  He  still  led,  and  with 
every  few  jumps  of  his  pony  he  shook  his  lance  and 
whooped. 

Well  might  those  three  whites  in  the  mule  triangle 

28 


TALL  BULL  SIGNALS:  "ENEMIES!" 

be  afraid,  at  last ;  and  who  could  blame  the  boy,  there, 
if  he,  particularly,  was  afraid?  It  was  a  bad  place 
for  a  boy.  Dave  watched  him  anxiously,  and  won- 
dered. 

The  boy  was  facing  toward  the  charge;  the  two 
men  also  were  facing  outward,  to  right  and  left  of 
him,  that  they  might  cover  the  charge  as  it  spread. 

Up  rose  the  boy's  gun ;  the  two  men  seemed  to  be 
waiting  upon  him.  He  was  aiming,  but  he  would  not 
shoot  yet,  would  he,  with  the  Indians  so  far  off? 

Yet,  he  shot !  His  gun  muzzle  puffed  smoke.  The 
squaws  started,  cried  out,  waved  frantic  hands — for 
three  hundred  yards  from  the  muzzle  had  toppled, 
toppled  from  his  pony,  Lame  Buffalo,  smitten  in  mid- 
course!  It  seemed  to  Dave  that  he  could  hear  the 
two  white  men  cheering;  but  to  the  cries  of  the  squaws 
were  added  the  terrific  yells  of  the  warriors,  drowning 
out  every  other  sound. 

Nevertheless,  that  was  a  long,  long  shot,  for  boy 
or  man;  and  a  good  shot.  The  charge  split  again;  and 
not  daring  even  to  pick  up  Lame  Buffalo,  who  was 
crawling  painfully  and  pressing  a  hand  to  his  side, 
it  circled  around  and  around  the  mule  fort,  as  before. 

As  Lame  Buffalo  had  said,  the  "  little  one  "  shot 
the  straightest  of  any. 


II 

THE  HERO  OF  THE  MULE  FORT 


CUT  NOSE  signalled  his  band  to  council  again.  Four 
warriors  had  fallen,  and  two  ponies.  Now  at  a  safe 
distance  from  that  venomous,  spit-fire  little  fort,  they 
all  dismounted,  except  for  a  few  scouts,  and  squatted 
for  a  long  confab. 

"  Kill !    Kill !  "  implored  the  two  squaws. 

"Shut  up!"  rebuked  Cut  Nose;  and  they  only 
wailed  about  the  dead. 

On  the  outskirts  of  the  council,  and  annoyed  by 
the  wailing  of  the  squaws,  Dave  could  not  hear  all 
the  discussion.  Cut  Nose  asked  the  sub-chiefs  for 
their  opinion  what  to  do;  and  one  after  another  spoke. 

"  There  is  no  use  in  charging  white  men  behind  a 
fort/'  said  Bear- Who- Walks.  "  We  lose  too  many 
warriors,  any  one  of  whom  is  worth  more  than  all  the 
white  men  on  the  plains.  It  is  not  a  good  way  to 
fight.  I  like  to  fight,  man  to  man,  in  the  open.  If  we 
wait  long  enough,  we  can  kill  those  three  whites  when 
their  hearts  are  weak  with  thirst  and  hunger." 

"  They  have  medicine  guns,"  declared  Yellow 
Hand.  "  They  have  guns  that  are  never  empty.  No 
matter  how  much  they  shoot,  they  can  always  shoot 

30 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  MULE  FORT 

more.     The  great  spirit  of  the  white  people  is  helping 
them.    It  is  some  kind  of  magic." 

At  this,  Dave  wanted  to  laugh.  The  two  white 
men  and  the  white  boy  were  shooting  with  revolvers 
that  held  six  loads  each,  and  the  Cheyennes  could  not 
understand.  The  only  guns  that  the  Indians  had  were 
two  old  muskets  which  had  to  be  reloaded  after  every 
shot. 

"We  will  wait,"  said  Cut  Nose.  "We  have 
plenty  of  time.  The  whoa-haws  in  front  will  travel  on, 
leaving  these  three  whites.  We  will  wait,  and  watch, 
and  when  they  have  eaten  their  fort  and  their  tongues 
are  hanging  out  for  water,  we  will  ride  to  them  and 
scalp  them  before  they  die.  That  is  the  easiest  way." 

Some  of  the  warriors  did  not  favor  waiting;  the 
two  squaws  wept  and  moaned  and  claimed  that  the 
spirits  of  the  slain  braves  were  unhappy  because  those 
three  whites  still  lived.  But  nobody  made  a  decisive 
move;  they  all  preferred  to  squat  and  talk  and  rest 
their  ponies  and  themselves. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  mule  body  triangle  the  two  men 
and  the  boy  had  been  busy.  They  did  not  waste  any 
time,  talking  and  boasting.  It  was  to  be  seen  that  they 
were  digging  hard  with  their  knives,  and  heaping  the 
dirt  on  top  of  the  mule  bodies,  and  between  them.  An 
old  warrior  noted  this. 

"  See,"  he  bade.  "  The  fort  is  stronger  than  ever. 
But  by  night  the  wind  will  change  and  we  can  make 
the  whites  eat  fire.  That  is  a  good  plan." 

si 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"Yes,"  they  agreed.  "Let  us  wait  till  dark. 
White  men  behind  a  fort  in  daytime  are  very  hard  to 
kill.  There  is  no  hurry." 

The  afternoon  passed.  The  Indians  chewed  dried 
buffalo  meat,  and  squads  of  them  rode  to  the  river  and 
watered  the  horses.  While  lounging  about  they 
amused  themselves  by  yelling  insults  at  the  mule  fort ; 
and  now  and  again  little  charges  were  made,  by  small 
parties,  who  swooped  as  close  as  they  dared,  and  shot 
a  few  arrows. 

The  two  men  and  the  boy  rarely  replied.  They, 
also,  waited.  Their  barricade  was  so  high,  that  in  the 
trench  behind  it  they  were  completely  sheltered. 

But  over  them  and  over  the  field  of  battle  con- 
stantly circled  two  great  black  buzzards.  Lame  Buf- 
falo had  ceased  to  crawl,  and  lay  still.  The  squaws 
begged  the  young  warriors  to  go  out  and  bring  him  in 
— him  and  the  other  stricken  braves.  The  young  men 
only  laughed  and  shook  their  heads.  One  did  dash  for- 
ward; but  a  bullet  from  the  gun  of  the  boy  grazed  his 
scalp-lock,  and  ducking  he  scurried  back  faster  than 
he  had  gone ! 

That  boy  certainly  was  cool  and  brave  and  sharp- 
sighted.  Dave  was  proud  of  him;  for  Dave,  also,  was 
white,  and  a  boy. 

So  the  afternoon  wore  away.  Evening  neared. 
The  sun,  a  large  red  ball,  sank  into  the  flat  plains.  A 
beautiful  golden  twilight  spread  abroad,  tinging  the 
sod  and  the  sky.  The  world  seemed  all  peaceful;  but 

32 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  MULE  FORT 

here  in  the  midst  of  the  twilight  were  waiting  and 
watching  the  painted  Cheyennes,  as  eager  as  ever  to 
get  at  those  three  persons  in  the  mule  fort.  This  twi- 
light, Dave  imagined,  must  be  a  very  serious  moment 
for  the  fort.  The  twilight  warned  that  night  was  at 
hand. 

Dusk  settled,  and  deepened  into  darkness.  The 
Sioux  made  no  camp-fires.  Davy  wrapped  himself  in 
an  old  buffalo-robe,  and  guarded  by  the  two  squaws, 
one  on  either  side  of  him,  tried  not  to  sleep.  As  he 
listened,  while  he  gazed  up  at  the  million  stars,  and  the 
plains  breeze  fanned  across  his  face,  he  wondered  what 
the  boy  in  the  mule  fort  was  doing.  No  doubt  he  was 
listening,  too,  and  wishing  that  the  stars  would  come 
down  and  help,  or  else  send  a  message  to  those  freight 
wagons  which  were  travelling  on. 

Davy  must  have  dropped  off  to  sleep,  in  spite  of 
himself;  because  suddenly  he  was  aroused  by  the 
squaws  sitting  up  and  jabbering.  Had  morning  come? 
The  plains  yonder  were  light.  No;  that  was  fire! 
The  Cheyennes,  just  as  they  had  planned,  had  set  the 
grass  afire,  to  windward  of  the  mule  fort.  While 
Davy,  too,  sat  up,  his  heart  beating  wildly,  the  fire 
seemed  to  be  sweeping  right  toward  the  fort.  Behind 
the  line  of  flames  and  smoke  he  could  see  the  dark 
figures  of  the  Indians  fanning  with  blankets  and  robes, 
to  make  the  line  move  faster  and  fiercer. 

"Humph!      A   poor   fire,"    grunted    one   of    tbe 
squaws-     ''  Grass  too  short. " 
3  33 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

:<  Yes.  But  it  makes  a  smoke,  so  the  men  can 
charge  up  close/'  answered  the  other. 

That,  then,  was  the  scheme,  if  the  fire  itself  did  not 
amount  to  much.  Some  of  the  dark  figures  behind  the 
line  of  fire  fanned;  others  were  stealing  forward,  into 
the  smoke  itself.  The  moment  was  exciting.  The 
smoke  was  drifting  across  the  fort ;  would  the  two  men 
and  the  boy  suspect  that  the  Indians  were  following 
it  in? 

The  line  of  fire  seemed  almost  at  the  low  mound 
which  contained  the  three  whites;  the  smoke  drifted 
thick  and  fast;  the  figures  of  the  Indians  stole  for- 
ward. Abruptly,  from  the  dim  mound  spurted  a  jet 
of  flame,  and  sounded  a  hollow  "Bang!"  Another 
jet  spurted,  with  another  "Bang"  And — "Bang! 
Bang!  Bangity-bang-bang ! "  Hurrah!  That  fort 
was  not  being  fooled;  no,  indeed.  It  was  ready  for 
anything.  It  knew  what  was  behind  the  smoke,  and 
had  only  been  waiting. 

"Kill!  Kill!  "  shrieked  the  two  squaws,  enraged 
again.  But  the  warriors  gave  up,  as  soon  as  they  found 
that  their  smoke  scheme  had  not  worked.  They  shot 
their  bullets  and  a  few  arrows,  and  lay  low.  Soon 
the  fire  and  the  smoke  had  passed  beyond  the  mule  fort. 
Some  of  the  braves  returned  to  the  camp;  the  others 
continued  to  sneak  about,  on  guard  over  the  fort 
Silence  reigned. 

"  We  might  as  well  go  to  sleep,"  said  one  squaw 
to  the  other,  "  Nothing  will  happen  until  morning." 

34 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  MULE  FORT 

"  Lie  down,  white  red-head,"  bade  the  second 
squaw,  roughly,  to  Dave.  "  To-morrow  we  will  have 
three  more  whites,  and  that  will  mean  lots  of  fun." 

Davy  obeyed.  It  was  warmer  lying  down  than  sit- 
ting up.  Thankful  that  the  three  whites  were  still 
unbeaten,  and  too  smart  for  the  Cheyennes,  he  fell 
asleep.  When  again  he  wakened,  it  really  was  morn- 
ing. The  sky  was  pink,  and  stars  pale,  the  brush 
showed  plainly.  But  he  had  no  time  to  meditate,  or 
invite  another  "  forty  winks."  The  squaws  had 
sprung  to  their  feet;  the  air  was  full  of  clangor  and 
shouting  and  shooting;  the  Indians  were  making  a 
charge,  the  little  fort  was  holding  them  off. 

It  was  the  angriest  charge  yet,  all  in  the  chill,  pink 
dawn  flooding  high  sky  and  broad  plain.  However, 
it  didn't  work.  The  two  men  and  the  boy  were  just 
as  ready  as  ever,  and  the  charge  split.  Cut  Nose 
waved  his  hand  and  motioned.  The  circle  of  gallop- 
ing horsemen  spread  wider,  and  dismounting,  the 
riders,  holding  to  their  ponies'  neck-ropes,  sat  down 
to  wait  like  a  circle  of  crows  watching  a  corn-field. 

The  two  squaws  were  disgusted.  They  grumbled, 
as  they  prepared  breakfast;  and  under  their  scowls 
Davy  felt  afraid.  He  wondered  what  the  Indians 
would  do  next. 

Plainly  enough,  they  did  not  intend  to  make  any 
more  charges.  The  sun  rose  high  and  higher.  His 
beams  were  hot,  so  that  the  plain  simmered.  Without 
shad^  in  that  little  open  enclosure  formed  by  the  mule 

36 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

carcasses,  the  three  whites  would  soon  be  very  uncom- 
fortable. One  was  a  boy  and  one  was  wounded.  Cir- 
cling and  waiting,  the  two  black  buzzards  had  been 
joined  by  a  third.  Forming  a  wide  ring  of  squatting 
warriors  and  dozing  ponies,  the  Indians  also  waited. 
The  air  was  still;  scarcely  a  sound  was  to  be  heard, 
save  as  now  and  then  the  squaws  with  Davy  murmured 
one  to  the  other,  or  a  warrior  made  a  short  remark. 

What  was  to  be  the  end  ?  The  grim  siege  was  worse 
than  the  charges.  The  sun  had  climbed  well  toward 
the  noon  mark,  and  Davy  felt  heart-sick  for  those 
three  prisoners  in  the  mule  fort,  when,  on  a  sudden,  a 
new  thing  happened.  First,  a  warrior,  on  his  right, 
up-leaped,  to  stand  gazing  westward,  listening.  An- 
other warrior  stood — and  another,  and  another.  Cut 
Nose  himself  was  on  his  feet;  ponies  were  pricking 
their  ears;  the  two  squaws,  bounding  to  their  feet, 
likewise  looked  and  listened. 

Davy  strained  his  ears.  Hark !  Distant  shooting  ? 
Flat,  faint  reports  of  firearms  seemed  to  drift  through 
the  stillness.  No!  Hurrah,  hurrah!  Those  reports 
were  the  cracking  of  teamsters'  bull- whips.  A  wagon 
train  was  coming!  Another  wagon  train,  from  the 
west!  See — above  that  ridge  there,  only  half  a  mile 
away,  a  wagon  already  had  appeared:  first  the  team 
of  several  span  of  oxen,  then  the  white  top  of  the  big 
vehicle  itself,  and  the  driver  trudging,  and  several  out- 
riding horsemen  flanking  on  either  side. 

Team  after  team,  wagon  after  wagon,  mounted  the 

86 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  MULE  FORT 

ridge,  and  flowed  over  and  down.  It  was  a  large  train, 
and  a  grand  sight;  only,  it  was  not  a  grand  sight  for 
the  Indians.  But  in  the  mule  fort  the  two  white  men 
and  the  boy  had  jumped  up  and  were  waving  their  hats 
and  cheering.  Davy  wanted  to  join,  and  wave  and 
cheer. 

To  their  ponies'  backs  were  vaulting  all  the  In- 
dians. The  two  squaws,  panic-stricken,  rushed  to  the 
safety  of  their  saddles.  They  seemed  to  forget  little 
Dave.  Cut  Nose  had  dashed  to  the  front,  his  men 
were  rallying  around  him.  Evidently  they  were  de- 
bating whether  to  fight  or  run.  Louder  sounded  the 
smart  cracks  of  the  bull- whips;  the  wagon  train  was 
coming  right  ahead,  lined  out  for  the  very  spot.  The 
Indians  had  short  shift  for  planning.  The  two  squaws, 
having  hastily  gathered  their  belongings,  galloped  for 
the  council.  Davy  started  to  follow,  but  lagged,  and 
paused.  His  own  pony  was  making  off,  dragging  his 
neck  rope,  to  catch  up  with  the  other  ponies.  Davy 
wisely  let  him  go. 

Now  Cut  Nose  raised  his  hand ;  and  turning,  quick- 
ened his  pony  to  a  furious  gallop.  Shrill  pealed  his 
war-whoop;  whooping  and  lashing,  after  him  pelted 
every  warrior,  with  the  two  squaws  racing  behind. 
Straight  for  the  little  fort  they  charged.  The  three 
whites  had  dropped  low,  to  receive  them.  And — look, 
listen — from  the  wagon  train  welled  answering  yell, 
and  on,  across  the  plain,  for  the  fort,  spurred  a  dozen 
and  more  riders  shaking  their  guns  and  shouting. 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Davy  dived  to  cover  of  a  grease  wood  bush,  and  lay 
low.  But  the  Cheyennes  did  not  stop  to  get  him  .  They 
kept  on;  at  the  little  fort  they  split,  as  before,  and 
shooting  and  yelping  they  passed  on  either  side  of  it. 
The  three  whites  received  them  with  a  volley  and  sent 
a  volley  or  two  after  them  as  they  thudded  away.  And 
that  was  the  end  of  the  siege. 

Davy  did  not  dare  to  stand  and  show  himself.  To 
be  sure,  the  Cheyennes,  both  men  and  squaws,  wen 
racing  away,  as  hard  as  they  could  ride;  but  even  yet 
they  might  send  back  after  him.  So  he  lay  and  peeped, 
However,  in  the  mule  fort  the  two  men  and  the  boy  had 
risen  upright,  again  to  wave  and  cheer.  Waving  and 
cheering,  the  mounted  men  from  the  wagon  train  came 
galloping  on,  and  presently  the  three  in  the  fort  stepped 
outside.  Arrived,  the  foremost  riders  from  the  train 
hastily  flung  themselves  from  their  saddles,  and  there 
was  apparently  a  great  shaking  of  hands  and  exchange 
of  greetings.  With  volleys  renewed,  from  their  whip 
lashes,  the  teams  also  were  hastening  for  the  scene. 
The  Cheyennes  already  were  almost  out  of  sight.  So 
Davy  stood,  and  trudged  forward. 

He  had  half  a  mile  to  walk,  through  the  low  brush. 
The  first  of  the  wagons  beat  him  to  the  fort.  WHen  he 
drew  near,  the  lead  wagon  had  halted,  and  the  others 
were  trundling  m  one  after  the  other.  The  men  were 
crowding  about  their  three  comrades  who  had  been 
rescued,  and  for  a  few  moments  nobody  seemed  to 

38 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  MULE  FORT 

notice  ragged  little  red-headed  Dave,  toiling  on  as  fast 
as  he  could. 

It  was  a  large  train.  There  were  twenty-five 
wagons,  with  their  teamsters,  and  about  two  hundred 
extra  men,  some  mounted  on  mules  and  horses.  How- 
ever, most  of  the  men  were  afoot.  The  wagons  were 
tremendous  big  things,  with  flaring  canvas  tops  on,  or 
else  with  the  canvas  stripped,  leaving  only  the  naked 
hoops  of  the  frame- work.  Each  wagon  was  drawn  by 
twelve  panting  bullocks,  yoked  in  pairs,  or  spans. 

The  majority  of  the  men  were  dressed  alike,  in 
flat,  broad-brimmed  plains  hats,  blue  or  red  flannel 
shirts,  and  rough  trousers  belted  at  the  waist  and  tucked 
into  high,  heavy  boots.  The  teamsters  were  armed 
in  hand  with  their  whips,  of  short  stock  and  long  lash 
and  snapper  which  cracked  like  a  pistol  shot.  Those 
cracks  could  be  heard  half  a  mile.  The  extra  men 
carried  mainly  large  bore  muskets,  called  (as  Davy 
knew)  Mississippi  yagers;  and  all  had  knives  and  pis- 
tols, thrust  into  waist-band  and  belt.  Whiskered  and 
unshaven  and  tanned  and  dusty,  it  was  a  regular  rough- 
and-ready  crowd. 

However,  of  course  the  three  defenders  of  the  mule 
fort  took  the  chief  attention.  They  were  the  two  men 
(the  shoulder  of  one  was  rudely  bandaged  with  a  blue 
bandanna  handkerchief)  and  the  boy.  Even  the  boy 
wore  freighter  plains  costume,  of  broad  hat  and  flannel 
shirt  and  trousers  tucked  into  boots;  and  he  held  a 
yager  in  his  hand,  and  had  a  butcher  knife  and  two  big 

30 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Colt's  revolvers  stuck  in  his  belt.  He  and  the  two  men 
looked  pretty  well  tired  out,  but  they  stood  fast  and 
answered  all  kinds  of  questions. 

The  mule  fort  showed  how  hot  had  been  the  battle, 
for  the  mule  bodies  fairly  bristled  with  arrows. 
Arrows  were  everywhere  on  the  ground  about. 

The  freighters  had  crowded  close,  and  everybody 
was  talking  and  laughing  at  once.  Davy  stood  un- 
noted on  the  outskirts,  gazing  and  listening — until  on 
a  sudden  he  was  espied  by  a  tall,  lank  teamster  with 
long  dusty  whiskers. 

"  Hello,  thar!"  the  man  called,  loudly.  "  Whar 
'd  you  come  from,  Red  ?  Lookee,  boys !  Reckon  we've 
picked  up  a  trav'ler.  Whoopee!  Come  hyar,  son. 
Give  us  an  account  of  yoreself." 

One  after  another,  they  all  looked.  Davy  flushed 
and  fidgeted  and  felt  much  embarrassed.  The  tall 
whiskered  freighter  strode  forward  and  grasped  him 
by  the  ragged  shirt-sleeve. 

"What's  yore  name?" 

"  David  Scott." 

"  Whar  'd  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  The  Indians  had  me.  They  killed  my  uncle  and 
aunt  and  made  me  go  along." 

"Whar  was  that?" 

"  Back  on  the  Overland  Trail.  We  were  with  a 
wagon  train  and  got  separated." 

"  How  long  ago  ?  " 

"  Two  weeks,  I  think." 

40 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  MULE  FORT 

"What  Injuns?" 

"  Those "  and  Davy  pointed  in  the  direction 

taken  by  the  Cut  Nose  band. 

"  I  want  to  know ! "  The  teamster  gaped  wide  in 
astonishment,  and  from  the  crowd  came  a  chorus  of 
exclamations.  "  How  'd  you  get  away?  " 

"  When  you  scared  them  off  I  hid  behind  a  bush. 
Two  squaws  had  me,  and  they  didn't  wait." 

"  You  mean  to  say  you  war  with  those  same  pesky 
Injuns  who  war  attackin'  this  fort  hyar?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.    But  I  didn't  do  any  of  the  fighting." 

"  No,  o'  course  you  didn't.  Wall,  I'm  jiggered!  " 
And  the  whiskered  freighter  seemed  overwhelmed  with 
amazement  But  he  rallied,  as  a  thought  struck  him. 
"  Come  along  hyar.  I'll  interduce  ye  to  another  boy." 
And  by  the  sleeve  he  led  Davy  forward,  through  the 
staring  crowd.  "  Hyar,  now ;  I  want  to  interduce  ye 
to  a  reg'lar  rip-snorter,  not  much  older'n  you  are. 
Red,  shake  hands  with  little  Billy  Cody,  the  hero  of 
the  mule  fort." 


Ill 

WITH  THE  WAGON  TRAIN 


"  LITTLE  BILLY  CODY  "  was  the  boy  who  had  been 
with  the  two  men  in  the  mule  fort.  Surrounded  by  the 
staring  crowd  Davy  felt  rather  timid  and  did  not  know 
exactly  what  to  do.  But  Billy  Cody  promptly  put  out 
his  hand,  Davy  extended  his,  and  Billy  gripped  it 
warmly. 

"  Hello/'  he  said,  gruffly.  "  Where  do  you  hail 
from?" 

"  I  was  out  there,  with  the  Indians,  while  you  were 
fighting,"  explained  Davy. 

"  Didn't  we  give  it  to  'em! "  asserted  Billy  Cody. 
"  They  thought  they  had  us ;  but  they  didn't." 

"  I  saw  you  shoot  Lame  Buffalo,"  said  Davy, 
eagerly.  "  I  guess  you  killed  him." 

"  He  shore  did,"  declared  the  wounded  man. 
"  When  little  Billy  draws  bead  on  anything,  it's  a 
goner." 

"  Well,  I  had  to  do  it,"  said  Billy  Cody.  "  Lew  told 
me  to." 

"  So  I  did,"  uttered  the  second  of  the  two  men. 
"  It  was  time  those  Injuns  knew  what  they  were  up 

42 


WITH  THE  WAGON  TRAIN 

against,  when  they  tackled  us  and  Billy.  That  one  shot 
licked  'em." 

"Hurrah  for  little  Billy!"  cheered  the  crowd, 
good-natured;  and  Billy  fidgeted,  embarrassed,  al- 
though anybody  could  see  that  he  was  rather  proud. 

He  was  a  good-looking  boy,  although  now  his  face 
was  burned  and  grimy,  and  his  clothing  rough.  He 
stood  a  little  taller  than  Davy,  but  he  was  slender  and 
wiry.  He  had  brown  hair  and  dark  brown  eyes  and 
regular  features ;  and  under  his  grime  and  tan  his  skin 
was  smooth.  He  was  dressed  just  like  the  men,  and 
carried  himself  like  a  man;  but  the  muzzle  of  the  long 
heavy  yager  extended  above  his  hat-brim.  Evidently 
his  two  companions  thought  highly  of  him,  and  so  did 
the  men  of  the  wagon  train. 

"  Some  of  you  tend  to  Woods'  shoulder;  then  if 
you'll  hustle  a  little  grub  we'll  be  ready  for  it,"  quoth 
the  man  called  Lew.  "  Those  mule  carcasses  served  a 
good  purpose  but  they  weren't  very  appetizing." 

"  First  of  all,  I  want  a  drink,"  announced  the  man 
called  Woods. 

Prompt  hands  passed  forward  canteens,  and  Billy 
and  the  two  men  took  long,  hearty  swigs  of  water. 

"  Arrow  wasn't  pizened,  was  it  ?  "  queried  several 
voices,  of  Mr.  Woods. 

"  No.  Lew  looked  at  it,  and  said  not.  So  he  put 
a  hunk  o'  tobacco  on  it,  and  we  haven't  paid  much  more 
attention  to  it,"  answered  Mr.  Woods.  "  But  it's  pow- 
erful sore." 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Here;  I'll  fix  it  up,"  proffered  a  quiet  man,  who 
had  not  been  saying  much.  Now  noticing  him,  Davy 
thought  that  he  was  the  finest  figure  in  the  whole  party. 
This  man  was  young  (he  could  not  have  been  more 
than  twenty,  but  this  pioneer  life  turned  youths  into 
men  early)  and  was  splendidly  built.  He  stood  a 
straight  six  feet,  with  slim  waist  and  broad  shoulders 
and  flat  back ;  his  hair  was  long  and  light  yellow,  and 
his  wavy  moustache  also  was  light  yellow.  His  eyes 
were  wide  and  steel  gray,  his  nose  hawk-like,  his  chin 
square  and  firm.  His  clothes  fitted  him  well,  and  were 
worn  with  an  easy  grace.  About  his  strong  neck  was 
loosely  knotted  a  red  silk  handkerchief. 

"All  right,  Bill,"  responded  Mr.  Woods,  sitting 
down.  "  'Twon't  need  much,  except  a  little  washing." 

Bill  calmly  proceeded  to  inspect  the  arrow 
wound  in  the  shoulder.  Other  men  were  hastily  pro- 
ducing food  from  the  wagons. 

"Here,  Red,"  they  bade,  to  Davy;  and  sitting  in 
the  half  circle  with  Mr.  Lew  and  Billy  Cody,  Davy 
gladly  ate.  It  seemed  good  to  be  with  white  people 
again. 

"  How  long  did  the  Injuns  have  you?  "  asked  Billy. 

"  About  two  weeks." 

"  They  were  Cheyennes,  weren't  they.  Who  was 
their  chief?" 

"  Cut  Nose.  He  was  head  chief.  But  Lame  Buf- 
falo and  Bear- Who- Walks  were  chiefs,  too." 

"  That  Cut  Nose  is  a  mean  Injun,"  pronounced 

44 


WITH  THE  WAGON  TRAIN 

Billy,  wagging  his  big  hat.  "  But  he  didn't  catch  us — 
not  with  Lew  Simpson  bossing  our  job.  I  thought  we 
were  wiped  out,  sure,  till  Lew  told  us  to  kill  our  mules 
quick  and  get  behind  'em.  That  was  a  great  scheme." 

"  It  shore  was,"  agreed  all  the  men  around,  wag- 
ging their  heads,  too,  while  they  listened.  "  Injuns 
hate  to  charge  folks  they  can't  see  well." 

"Weren't  you  afraid?"  asked  Davy.  He  liked 
this  Billy  Cody,  who  acted  so  like  a  man  and  yet  was 
only  a  boy. 

"He  afraid?  Billy  Cody  afraid?"  laughed  the 
listeners.  "  You  don't  know  Billy  yet." 

"  Whether  or  not  we  were  afraid,  we  were  mighty 
glad  to  have  those  mules  in  front  of  us,  weren't  we, 
Billy?  "  spoke  up  Lew  Simpson.  "  They  made  a  heap 
of  difference." 

"That's  right,"  answered  Billy,  frankly.  And 
everybody  laughed  again. 

The  meal  was  quickly  finished.  It  consisted  of  only 
cold  beans  and  chunks  of  dried  beef,  but  it  tasted  tre- 
mendously good  to  Davy;  and  he  didn't  see  that  Billy 
or  Mr.  Simpson  slighted  their  share,  either.  Mr. 
Woods  had  been  eating  while  his  wound  was  being 
dressed. 

"  George,  you'd  better  ride  in  a  wagon  for  a  day  or 
so,"  called  Mr.  Simpson,  rising,  to  Mr.  Woods. 
"  Well,  Red,"  and  he  addressed  Davy,  "  I  reckon  you'll 
travel  along  with  us.  We're  bound  back  to  the  States. 
Got  any  folks  there  ?  " 

45 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Davy,  with  a  lump  in  his  throat. 
"  But  I'd  like  to  go  on  with  you." 

"  All  right-o.  Now,  some  of  you  fellows  hustle  us 
a  mule  apiece,  while  Billy  and  I  plunder  those  Injuns 
out  there.  Then  we'll  travel." 

Mr.  Simpson  spoke  like  one  in  authority.  Billy 
Cody  promptly  sprang  up,  and  he  and  Mr.  Simpson 
strode  out  into  the  plain,  where  the  dead  Indians  and 
the  ponies  were  lying.  Lame  Buffalo  was  the  farthest 
of  all;  but  he  was  still,  like  the  rest.  Evidently  he 
would  ride  and  fight  no  more. 

The  wagon  train  men  bustled  about,  reforming  for 
the  march.  Three  mules  were  saddled,  as  mounts  for 
Davy  and  the  two  others.  Having  passed  rapidly  over 
the  field,  Mr.  Simpson  and  Billy  returned,  laden  with 
the  weapons  and  ornaments  of  the  warriors  and  the 
trappings  of  the  ponies.  They  made  two  trips.  Davy 
recognized  the  shield  and  head-dress  of  Lame  Buffalo, 
wrho  would  need  them  not  again.  Billy  proudly  carried 
them  and  stowed  them  in  a  wagon. 

"  Those  are  yours,  aren't  they?  "  asked  Davy,  fol- 
lowing him,  to  watch. 

"They're  mine  if  I  want  them,"  said  Billy. 
"  Reckon  I'll  take  'em  home  and  give  'em  to  my 
sisters." 

"Where  do  you  live?" 

"  In  Salt  Creek  Valley,  Eastern  Kansas,  near 
Leaven  worth.  Where  do  you  ?  " 

"  Nowhere,  I  guess,"  replied  Davy,  trying  to  smile, 
46 


WITH  THE  WAGON  TRAIN 

"  Pshaw !  "  sympathized  Billy.  "  That's  sure  hard 
luck.  Ride  along  with  me  and  I'll  tell  you  about 
things." 

"  Here,  boy — crawl  into  this,"  called  a  teamster 
nearby;  and  he  tossed  at  Davy  a  red  flannel  shirt. 
"  It'll  match  yore  ha'r."  And  he  laughed  good- 
naturedly. 

"  It's  my  color  all  right,"  responded  Davy,  with- 
out being  teased,  as  he  picked  up  the  shirt.  "  Much 
obliged."  He  slipped  it  over  his  head.  It  fitted  more 
like  a  blouse  than  a  shirt,  but  he  needed  something  of 
the  kind.  After  he  had  turned  back  the  sleeves  and 
tucked  in  the  long  tails,  he  was  very  comfortable. 

"  Climb  on  your  mule,  Red,"  bade  Billy  Cody. 
"  We're  going  to  start,  and  Lew  Simpson  won't  wait 
for  anybody." 

Mr.  Simpson  was  already  on  his  mule.  The  other 
mounted  men  were  in  their  saddles.  Mr.  Simpson  cast 
a  keen  glance  adown  the  line. 

"  All  ready?  "  he  shouted.    "  Go  ahead." 

The  long  lash  of  the  leading  teamster  shot  out  with 
a  resounding  crack. 

"  Gee-up !  "  he  cried.  "You  Buck !  Spot !  "  And 
again  his  whip  cracked  smartly.  His  six  yoke  of  oxen 
leaned  to  their  work;  the  wagon  creaked  as  it  moved. 
All  down  the  line  other  whips  were  cracking,  and  other 
teamsters  were  shouting,  and  the  wagons  creaked  and 
groaned.  One  after  another  they  started,  until  the 
whole  train  was  in  motion. 

47 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Mr.  Simpson  and  two  or  three  companions  led, 
keeping  to  the  advance.  The  other  riders  were  scat- 
tered in  bunches  back  on  either  side  of  the  train;  the 
teamsters  walked  beside  their  wagons ;  and  in  the  rear 
of  the  train  ambled  a  large  bunch  of  loose  cattle  and 
mules,  driven  by  a  herder. 

Billy  Cody  and  Dave  rode  together,  well  up  toward 
the  front. 

"  Did  you  ever  freight  any?"  queried  Billy. 
"  What  was  that  train  you  were  with  ?  Just  emi- 
grants? " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Davy.  "  We  were  going  to  Salt 
Lake." 

"Mormons?"  demanded  Billy,  quickly. 

"  No.  After  we'd  got  to  Salt  Lake  maybe  we'd 
have  gone  on  to  California." 

"  Expect  I'll  go  across  to  California  sometime," 
asserted  Billy.  "  How  old  are  you,  Red  ?  " 

"  Eleven." 

"  I'm  thirteen,  but  I've  been  drawing  pay  with  a  bull 
train  three  trips  out  and  back.  The  first  time  I  was 
herder  from  Fort  Leavenworth  out  to  Fort  Kearney 
and  back.  Next  time  I  was  herder  from  Leavenworth 
for  Salt  Lake,  but  the  Injuns  turned  us  at  Plum  Creek 
just  beyond  Fort  Kearney  and  we  had  to  quit.  I  killed 
an  Injun  too  dead  to  skin,  but  I  was  so  scared  I  didn't 
know  what  I  was  doing.  Last  summer  I  went  out  as 
extra  hand  with  a  big  outfit  for  the  soldiers  at  Salt 
Lake,  but  the  Mormons  held  us  up  and  took  all  our 

48 


WITH  THE  WAGON  TRAIN 

stuff,  so  we  couldn't  help  the  army,  and  we  had  to 
spend  the  winter  at  Fort  Bridger,  and  all  of  us  nearly 
starved." 

"  What's  an  extra  hand  ?  "  asked  Davy. 

"  He  takes  the  place  of  any  other  man,  who  may  be 
sick  or  hurt,"  explained  Billy,  importantly.  "  I'm 
drawing  man's  pay;  forty  a  month.  I'm  saving  it  to 
give  to  my  mother,  as  soon  as  I  get  back.  Weren't  you 
ever  with  a  bull  train  before?  " 

Davy  shook  his  head. 

"  No." 

"  This  is  a  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  outfit,"  pro- 
ceeded Billy.  "  They're  the  big  freighters  out  of 
Leavenworth  across  the  plains  and  down  to  Santa  Fe. 
Gee,  they  haul  a  lot  of  stuff!  We're  travelling  empty, 
back  from  Fort  Laramie  to  Leavenworth.  This  is  only 
half  the  train ;  there's  another  section  on  ahead  of  us. 
Lew  and  George  and  I  were  riding  on  to  catch  up 
with  it,  when  those  Injuns  coralled  us.  If  Lew  hadn't 
been  so  smart,  they'd  have  had  our  hair,  too.  We 
wouldn't  have  stood  any  show  at  all.  But  those  mules 
did  the  business.  And  I  had  a  dream  that  helped.  Last 
night  I  dreamed  my  old  dog  Turk  came  and  woke  me ; 
and  when  I  did  wake  I  saw  the  Injuns  sneaking  up  on 
us.  Then  we  all  woke,  and  drove  'em  back.  I'm  going 
to  thank  Turk  for  that.  I  don't  know  how  he  found 
me.  This  isn't  the  regular  trail ;  but  Lew  thought  he'd 
make  a  short  cut." 

"  Is  he  the  captain  ?  "  asked  Davy. 

4  49 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  He's  wagon  boss ;  he's  boss  of  the  whole  train, 
and  he's  a  dandy.  I  reckon  he's  the  best  wagon  boss  on 
the  plains.  George  Woods — the  man  who  was 
wounded — he's  assistant  boss.  He's  plucky,  I  tell  you. 
That  arrow  didn't  phase  him  at  all.  Lew  bound  a  big 
chunk  of  tobacco  on  it,  and  George  went  on  fighting. 
Do  you  know  what  they  call  this  outfit.  It's  a  bull 
outfit,  and  those  drivers  are  bull-whackers.  Jiminy, 
but  they  can  throw  those  whips  some !  " 

"  When  will  we  get  to  Leavenworth,  do  you 
think?" 

"  In  about  twenty-five  days.  We're  travelling 
light,  and  I  guess  we  can  make  twenty  miles  a  day. 
We've  got  a  lot  of  government  men  with  us,  from 
Fort  Laramie,  and  the  Injuns  will  think  twice  before 
they  interfere,  you  bet.  We're  too  many  for  'em.  I 
reckon  those  Cheyennes  didn't  expect  to  see  another 
bull  train  following  that  first  one." 

"  No.  They  thought  you  were  left  behind  and  were 
trying  to  catch  up.  So  they  waited  to  starve  you  out. 
That's  what  fooled  'em." 

"It  sure  did,"  nodded  Billy,  gravely.  "Say, 
there's  another  fine  man  with  this  outfit.  He's  the  one 
who  dressed  Woods'  shoulder.  His  name's  Jim 
Hickok,  but  everybody  calls  him  'Wild  Bill.'  Isn't 
he  a  good-looker  ?  " 

"  That's  right,"  agreed  Davy. 

"  Well,  he  isn't  just  looks,  either,"  asserted  Billy. 
"  He's  all  there.  He's  been  a  mighty  good  friend  of 

50 


WITH  THE  WAGON  TRAIN 

mine.  Because  I  was  a  boy  some  of  the  men  thought 
they  could  impose  on  me.  A  big  fellow  slapped  me 
off  a  bull-yoke,  when  I  was  sitting  and  didn't  jump 
the  instant  he  bade  me.  I  was  so  mad  I  threw  a  pot 
of  hot  coffee  in  his  face;  and  I  reckon  he'd  have 
killed  me  if  Wild  Bill  hadn't  knocked  him  cold.  When 
he  came  to  he  wanted  to  fight ;  but  Wild  Bill  told  him 
him  if  he  or  anybody  else  ever  bullied  *  little  Billy ' 
(that's  what  they  call  me)  they'd  get  such  a  pounding 
that  they  wouldn't  be  well  for  a  month  of  Sundays. 
Nobody  wants  trouble  with  Wild  Bill.  He  can  handle 
any  man  in  the  outfit ;  but  he  doesn't  fight  unless  he  has 
to.  He's  quiet,  and  means  to  mind  his  own  business." 

With  the  wagons  creaking  and  groaning,  and  the 
oxen  puffing  and  wheezing,  and  the  teamsters  crack- 
ing their  long  whips,  the  bull  train  slowly  toiled  on, 
across  the  rolling  prairie.  The  trail  taken  occasionally 
approached  the  banks  of  the  North  Platte  River,  and 
soon  there  would  be  reached  the  place  where  the 
North  Platte  and  the  South  Platte  joined,  to  make  the 
main  Platte,  flowing  southeastward  for  the  Missouri, 
400  miles  distant.  Beyond  the  Missouri  were  the 
States,  lined  up  against  this  "  Indian  country  "  where 
all  the  freighting  and  emigrating  was  going  on. 

The  train  made  a  halt  at  noon,  and  again  at  even- 
ing. Nothing  especial  had  occurred  since  the  rescue 
of  the  three  in  the  mule  fort.  Davy  was  very  glad, 
at  night,  to  lie  down  with  Billy  Cody  under  a  blanket, 
among  friends,  ir^tead  of  shivering  in  an  Indian  camp. 

51 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Start  was  made  again  at  sunrise.  To-day  the  main 
travelled  Platte  Trail  would  be  reached,  and  the  going 
would  be  easier.  Just  as  the  trails  joined  in  mid- 
morning,  a  sudden  cry  sped  down  the  long  line  of 
wagons. 

"Buffalo!    Buffalo!" 

All  was  excitement.    Davy  peered. 

"See  'em?"  said  Billy,  pointing.  "That's  a  big 
herd.  Thousands  of  'em.  Hurray  for  fresh  meat." 

Ahead,  between  the  river  at  one  side  and  some  sand 
bluffs  at  the  other,  a  black  mass,  of  groups  as  thick  as 
gooseberry  bushes,  had  appeared.  The  mass  was  in 
slow  motion,  as  the  groups  grazed  hither  and  thither. 
On  the  edges,  black  dots  told  of  buffaloes  feeding  out 
from  the  main  body.  There  must  have  been  thousands 
of  the  buffalo.  Davy  had  seen  other  herds  but  none 
so  large  as  this  one.  His  blood  tingled — especially 
when  Lew  Simpson,  the  wagon  boss  came  galloping 
back. 

"  Ride  on,  some  of  you  men,"  he  shouted.  "  There's 
meat.  You  whackers  follow  along  by  the  trail  and  be 
on  hand  when  we're  butchering/' 

"  I  can't  go,  can  I  ?  "  appealed  Davy,  eagerly,  to 
Billy. 

"  No ;  you  haven't  any  gun,"  answered  Billy. 
"  I'm  going,  though.  I  can  kill  as  many  buffalo  as 
anybody.  You  watch  us." 

Forward  galloped  Lew  Simpson  and  Billy  and 
twenty  others.  From  a  wagon  George  Woods,  his 


WITH  THE  WAGON  TRAIN 

shoulder  bandaged  and  painful,  stuck  out  his  head,  and 
lamented  the  fact  that  he  was  too  sore  to  ride.  The 
buffalo  hunt  promised  to  be  great  sport;  and,  besides, 
the  fresh  meat  would  be  a  welcome  change. 

So  away  the  hunters  galloped,  Lew  Simpson  and 
little  Billy  leading.  The  train,  guarded  by  the  other 
men,  followed,  closely  watching.  Even  the  very  rear 
of  it  was  excited. 

Now  arose  another  cry,  passing  from  mouth  to 
mouth. 

"  Lookee  there !    More  hunters !  " 

That  was  so.  Beyond  the  buffalo,  up  along  the 
river  were  speeding  another  squad  of  horsemen,  evi- 
dently intent  upon  the  same  prey.  They  were  coursing 
rapidly,  but  already  the  buffalo  had  seen  them,  and 
with  uplifted  heads  the  farthest  animals  were  gazing, 
alarmed. 

"  Our  fellows  will  have  to  hurry,"  remarked  the 
teamster  nearest  to  Davy.  "  Shucks !  That's  no  way 
to  hunt  buff 'ler.  Those  fellers  must  be  crazy.  They'll 
stampede  the  whole  herd !  " 

"  They'll  stampede  the  whole  herd,  sure,"  agreed 
everybody. 

It  was  a  moment  of  great  interest.  Davy  thumped 
his  mule  with  his  heels,  and  hastened  ahead,  the  better 
to  witness.  The  party  led  by  Lew  Simpson  and  Wild 
Bill  and  little  Billy  had  been  making  a  circuit,  keeping 
to  the  cover  of  the  low  ground,  until  they  were  close 
enough  to  charge;  but  those  other  hunters  were  riding 

53 


BUFFALO  BELL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

boldly,  as  if  to  run  the  buffalo  down.  And  as  anybody 
should  know,  this  really  was  not  the  right  way  to  hunt 
buffalo. 

"  They'll  drive  'em  into  our  fellows,"  claimed  sev- 
eral voices.  "  They'll  do  the  runnin'  an*  we'll  do  the 
killin'!" 

"  Or  else  they'll  drive  'em  into  us!  "  cried  others. 
"  Watch  out,  boys !  Watch  yore  teams !  Steady  with 
yore  teams,  or  there'll  be  the  dickens  to  pay." 

That  seemed  likely.  The  stranger  hunters  were 
right  upon  the  herd ;  the  outside  buffalo  had  wheeled ; 
and  tossing  their  heads  and  whirling,  now  with  heads 
low  and  tails  high  the  whole  great  herd  was  being  set 
in  motion,  fleeing  to  escape.  The  thudding  of  their 
hoofs  drifted  like  rolling  thunder.  After  the  herd 
pelted  the  stranger  hunters. 

Part  of  the  herd  plashed  through  the  river;  part 
made  for  the  sand-hills — but  smelling  or  sighting  the 
Simpson  party,  they  veered  and  came  on,  between  the 
river  and  the  sand-hills,  straight  for  the  trail  and  the 
wagon-train.  In  vain  out  dashed,  to  turn  them,  the 
Simpson  party;  from  the  train  itself  the  horsemen 
spurred  forward,  as  a  bulwark  of  defense;  the  team- 
sters shouted  and  "  Gee-hawed  "  and  swung  their  bull- 
whips,  and  the  oxen,  surging  and  swerving,  their 
nostrils  wide  and  their  eyes  bulging,  dragged  the 
wagons  in  confusion.  In  his  excitement  Davy  rode 
on,  into  the  advance,  to  help  it. 

To  shout  and  wave  at  those  crazy  hunters  and  order 

54 


WITH  THE  WAGON  TRAIN 

them  to  quit  their  pursuit  was  useless.  They  didn't 
see  and  they  couldn't  hear ;  at  least,  they  did  not  seem 
to  understand.  Panic-stricken,  the  buffaloes  came 
straight  on.  Off  to  the  side  Lew  Simpson  and  Wild  Bill 
and  little  Billy  and  companions  were  shooting  rapidly ; 
the  stranger  hunters  were  shooting,  behind;  and 
now  the  reinforcements  from  the  train  were  shooting 
and  yelling,  hoping  to  split  the  herd.  Some  of  the 
buffaloes  staggered  and  fell ;  others  never  hesitated  or 
turned,  but  forged  along  as  if  blind  and  deaf.  One 
enormous  old  bull  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life;  he 
galloped  right  through  the  skirmish  line ;  and  the  next 
thing  that  Davy,  as  excited  as  anybody,  knew,  the  bull 
sighted  him,  and  charged  him. 

Davy  found  himself  apparently  all  alone  with  the 
big  bull.  He  did  not  need  to  turn  his  mule;  his  mule 
turned  of  its  own  accord,  and  away  they  raced.  Davy 
was  vaguely  conscious  of  shouts  and  shots  and  the 
frenzied  leaps  of  his  frightened  mule,  which  was 
heading  back  to  the  wagon  train.  Davy  did  not  know 
that  he  was  doing  right,  to  lead  the  angry  bull  into 
the  train;  he  tugged  in  vain  at  his  mule's  bit,  and 
could  not  make  the  slightest  impression.  Then,  down 
pitched  the  mule,  as  if  he  had  thrust  his  foot  into  a 
hole;  and  the  ground  flew  up  and  struck  Davy  on  the 
ear.  In  a  long  slide  he  went  scraping  on  ear  and  shoul- 
der, before  he  could  stagger  to  his  feet. 

The  mule  was  galloping  away ;  but  Davy  looked  for 

55 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

the  buffalo.  The  big  bull  had  stopped  short  and  was 
staring  and  rumbling,  as  if  astonished.  The  change 
in  the  shape  of  the  thing  that  he  had  been  chasing 
seemed  to  make  him  angrier.  He  stood,  puzzled  and 
staring  and  rumbling,  only  about  twenty  yards  from 
Davy.  Suddenly  the  red  shirt  must  have  got  into  his 
eyes,  for  his  fore-hoofs  began  to  throw  the  dirt  higher, 
and  Davy  somehow  knew  that  he  was  going  to  charge. 

Not  much  time  had  passed;  no,  not  a  quarter  of  a 
minute,  since  the  mule  had  fallen  and  had  left  Davy 
to  the  buffalo.  The  wagon  train  men  were  yelling  and 
running,  from  the  one  direction ;  the  hunters  were  yell- 
ing and  riding,  from  the  other ;  and  whether  they  were 
yelling  and  hurrying  on  his  account,  Davy  could  not 
look,  to  see.  Down  had  dropped  the  bull's  huge  shaggy 
head,  up  had  flirted  his  little  knobbed  tail;  and  on  he 
came. 

Davy  never  knew  how  he  managed — he  dimly 
heard  another  outburst  of  confused  shouts,  amidst 
which  Billy  Cody's  voice  rang  the  clearest,  with 
"  Dodge  him,  Red !  This  way,  this  way !  "  He  did  not 
dare  to  glance  aside,  and  he  felt  that  it  was  not  much 
use  to  run ;  but  in  a  twinkling  he  peeled  off  the  crimson 
shirt  (which  was  so  large  for  him)  and  throwing  it, 
sprang  aside. 

Into  the  shirt  plunged  the  big  bull,  and  tossed  it 
and  rammed  it  and  trampled  it,  while  Davy  watched 
amazed,  ready  to  run  off. 

53 


WITH  THE  WAGON  TRAIN 

"  Bully  for  you,  Red!  "  sang  out  a  familiar  voice; 
riding  hard  to  Davy's  side  dashed  Billy  Cody,  on 
lathered  mule;  he  levelled  his  yager,  it  spoke,  the  big 
bull  started  and  stiffened,  as  if  stung.  Slowly  he 
swayed  and  yielded,  with  a  series  of  grunts  sinking 
down,  and  down ;  from  his  knees  he  rolled  to  his  side ; 
and  there  he  lay,  not  breathing. 


IV 

VISITING  BILLY  CODY 


"ALL  right,  Red,"  panted  Billy  Cody.  "He's 
spoiled  your  shirt,  though.  Lucky  you  weren't  inside 
it.  Say,  that  was  a  smart  trick  you  did.  Get  up  be- 
hind me.  The  wagon  train's  in  a  heap  of  trouble. 
Let's  go  ever  there." 

Davy's  knees  were  shaking  and  he  could  not  speak ; 
he  was  ashamed  to  seem  so  frightened,  but  he  clambered 
aboard  the  mule,  behind  the  saddle.  Away  Billy 
spurred  for  the  wagon  train.  Other  hunters  were 
spurring  in  the  same  direction. 

The  wagon  train  certainly  was  having  a  time  of  it. 
Those  stranger  hunters,  from  down  the  river,  had 
driven  the  buffaloes  straight  into  the  teams.  The  cavvy 
of  loose  cattle  and  mules  had  scattered ;  ox-teams  had 
broken  their  yokes  or  had  stampeded  with  the  wagons. 
Several  wagons  were  over-turned;  and  a  big  buffalo 
was  galloping  away  with  an  ox-yoke  entangled  in  his 
horns.  Wild  Bill  overhauled  him  in  short  order  and 
returned  with  the  yoke;  but  hither  and  thither  across 
the  field  were  racing  and  chasing  other  men,  ahorse 
and  afoot,  trying  to  gather  the  train  together  again. 

By  the  time  that  the  buffalo  charge  had  passed  on 

68 


VISITING  BILLY  CODY 

through  and  the  animals  were  making  off  into  the  dis- 
tance, most  of  the  train's  hunters  had  arrived.  The 
other  hunters,  from  below,  also  arrived.  They  proved 
to  be  a  party  of  emigrants,  for  California,  who  did  not 
understand  how  to  hunt  buffalo.  In  fact,  they  had  not 
killed  a  single  one.  However,  Lew  Simpson  gave 
them  a  pretty  dressing  down  for  their  carelessness. 

"  You've  held  us  up  for  a  day,  at  least,"  he 
stormed;  "  and  you've  done  us  several  hundred  dol- 
lars' worth  of  damage  besides." 

"  Well-nigh  killed  that  boy,  too,"  spoke  somebody. 
"  Did  you  see  him  peel  that  shirt  ?  Haw-haw ! 
Slipped  out  of  it  quicker'n  a  snake  go  in'  through  a 
holler  log!" 

"  Little  Billy  came  a-runnin',  though,"  reminded 
somebody  else. 

"  Yep;  but  didn't  save  the  shirt!  " 

That  was  true — everybody  agreed  that  Davy  would 
not  have  been  saved  had  he  not  acted  promptly.  He 
was  given  another  shirt  (a  blue  one)  to  take  the  place  of 
the  one  sacrificed  to  the  big  buffalo. 

The  California  party  rode  away,  taking  a  little 
meat  that  Lew  Simpson  offered  them  after  they  had 
properly  apologized  for  their  clumsiness.  The  rest  of 
the  day  was  spent  in  cutting  up  the  buffaloes,  and  in 
repairing  the  wagons  and  harness.  Not  until  the  next 
noon  was  the  train  able  to  resume  its  creaking  way, 
down  the  Plattt  River  trail,  for  the  Missouri  River 
at  Fort  Leavenworth. 

69 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

About  twenty  miles  a  day  were  covered  now,  reg- 
ularly, and  during  the  days  Davy  learned  considerable 
about  a  "  bull  train  "  on  the  plains.  He  learned  that 
he  was  lucky  to  ride  instead  of  walk;  nearly  everybody 
with  a  bull  train  walked.  However,  this  train  was 
travelling  almost  empty,  back  from  Fort  Laramie,  on 
the  North  Platte  River  in  western  Nebraska  (for 
Nebraska  Territory  extended  to  the  middle  of  present 
Wyoming),  to  Fort  Leaven  worth  in  eastern  Kansas 
Territory.  It  was  accompanied  by  a  lot  of  government 
employes,  who  did  not  work  for  the  train,  and  these 
rode  if  they  could  furnish  their  own  mules.  Lew 
Simpson,  the  wagon  boss,  and  George  Woods,  the  as- 
sistant wagon  boss,  Billy  the  extra  hand,  and  the  herder, 
rode,  because  that  was  the  custom;  all  the  other  em- 
ployes walked. 

The  oxen  or  "bulls"  (as  they  were  called)  were 
guided  by  voice  and  whip.  The  whip,  though,  rarely 
touched  them  hard;  just  a  flick  of  the  lash  at  one  side 
or  the  other  of  the  leading  span  was  enough.  A 
sharp  "  Gee  up !  "  or  a  "  Whoa,  haw,  Buck !  "  and  a 
motion  of  the  lash,  did  the  business.  Some  of  the 
oxen  seemed  to  be  very  wise. 

"  Do  you  know  what  those  whips  are,  Red  ?  "  asked 
Billy. 

"  Raw  hide." 

"  Better  than  that.  I'll  get  one  and  show  you  when 
we  camp." 

So  he  did  that  noon. 

60 


VISITING  BILLY  CODY 

"  Hickory  stock,  and  lash  of  buffalo  hide,  tanned, 
with  a  buck-skin  cracker/'  informed  Billy.  "  Eighteen 
inch  stock,  eighteen  foot  lash,  and  cost  eighteen  dol- 
lars. You  ought  to  see  some  of  these  whackers  sling 
a  whip !  They  can  stand  at  the  fore  wheel  and  pick  a 
fly  off  the  lead  team !  Yes,  and  they  can  take  a  chunk 
of  hide  out,  too — but  they  don't  often  do  that." 

Davy  curiously  examined  the  bull  whip.  The  stock 
was  short  and  smooth,  the  lash  was  long  and  braided 
thickest  in  the  middle,  like  the  shape  of  a  snake.  The 
cracker  was  about  six  inches  in  length,  and  already  had 
frayed  at  the  tip ;  and  no  wonder,  for  it  had  often  been 
made  to  snap  like  a  pistol  shot ! 

"  I  can  swing  the  thing  a  little,  but  it's  sort  of  long 
for  me,"  announced  Billy,  proceeding  to  practise  with 
it,  until  he  had  almost  taken  off  his  own  ear,  and  made 
the  whole  mess  uneasy.  "  I'm  not  going  to  quit, 
though,"  he  added,  "  until  I  can  throw  a  bull  whip  as 
good  as  anybody;"  and  he  took  the  whip  back  to  its 
owner. 

Billy  was  quite  a  privileged  character,  at  camp  and 
on  the  march.  Everybody  liked  him,  and  considered 
him  about  as  good  as  a  man.  To  be  an  "  extra  hand  " 
was  no  small  job.  It  meant  that  whenever  any  of  the 
teamsters  was  sick  or  hurt  or  otherwise  laid  off,  "  little 
Billy  "  took  his  place.  The  "  extra  hand  "  rode  with 
the  wagon  boss  (who  was  Lew  Simpson),  carried  or- 
ders for  him  down  the  line,  and  was  held  ready  to  fill 

61 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

a  vacancy.  So  this  duty  required  a  boy  of  no  ordinary 
pluck  and  sense. 

Besides,  it  was  generally  known  that  Billy  was 
drawing  wages  to  give  to  his  mother,  who  was  a  widow 
trying  to  raise  a  family.  Billy  was  the  "  man  "  of  the 
family,  and  they  depended  on  him.  The  wagon  train 
liked  him  all  the  more  for  this.  Everybody  spoke  well 
of  "  little  Billy,"  for  his  good  sense  and  his  courage. 
Davy  heard  many  stories  of  what  he  had  done.  The 
fight  in  the  mule  fort  had  showed  his  'ity  in  danger ; 
and  he  had  proved  himself  in  several  other  "  scrim- 
mages "  with  the  Indians. 

He  and  Davy  and  Lew  Simpson  and  George 
Woods  and  Wild  Bill  and  a  squad  of  government  men 
formed  a  mess,  which  ate  together.  The  pleasantest 
part  of  the  day  was  the  noon  halt,  around  the  camp- 
fire;  and  the  evening  camp,  at  sunset.  Billy  put  in 
part  of  his  rests  at  practising  writing  with  charcoal  on 
any  surface  that  he  could  find.  Even  when  Davy  had 
joined  the  train,  the  wagon  boxes  and  tongues  and 
wheels  bore  scrawls  such  as  "  Little  Billy  Cody," 
"Billy  Cody  the  Boy  Scout,"  "William  Frederick 
Cody,"  etc.  However,  as  a  writer  Dave  could  beat 
Billy  "  a  mile,"  as  the  teamsters  said.  Billy  was  not 
much  of  a  figurer,  either.  But  he  was  bound  to  learn. 

"  Ma  wants  me  to  go  to  school  some  more,"  he 
admitted.  "  So  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  this  winter.  I 
went  some  last  winter,  and  we  had  a  teacher  in  the 
house,  too.  A  little  schooling  won't  hurt  a  fellow." 


VISITING  BILLY  CODY 

"  No,  I  suppose  it  won't,"  answered  Davy,  gravely. 
"  I've  had  to  go  to  school.  But  I'd  rather  do  this." 

"  So  would  I,"  confessed  Billy.  "  I  like  it  and  I 
need  the  money — and  I  need  the  schooling,  too. 
Reckon  I  can  do  both." 

As  for  Davy  himself,  the  wagon  train  seemed  to 
consider  him,  also,  somewhat  of  a  personage,  because 
he  had  shown  his  "  smartness  "  when  the  buffalo  bull 
had  attacked  him.  Of  course,  he  had  only  slid  out  of 
his  big  flannel  shirt,  and  fooled  the  buffalo  with  it; 
but  that  had  been  the  right  thing  done  in  the  right 
place  at  the  right  time,  and  this  counted. 

Nothing  especial  happened  as  the  long  train  toiled 
on.  The  trail  was  fine,  worn  smooth  by  many  years  of 
travel  over  it.  This  was  the  old  Oregon  Trail,  and 
California,  from  the  Missouri  River,  over  the  plains 
and  the  mountains,  clear  to  the  Pacific  coast  of  the 
West.  Bea<ver  trappers  and  Indian  traders  had  opened 
it,  thirty  years  ago,  and  it  had  been  used  ever  since, 
by  trappers  and  traders,  and  by  soldiers  and  emigrants, 
and  its  name  was  known  the  world  around. 

The  wagon  train  frequently  met  other  outfits, 
freight  and  emigrants,  bound  west;  and  before  the 
train  turned  off  the  main  trail  for  the  government  road 
branching  southeast  for  Leavenworth,  the  Hockaday 
&  Liggett  stage-coach  from  St.  Joseph  on  the  Missouri 
for  Salt  Lake  City  passed  them.  It  wasn't  much  of  a 
stage,  being  only  a  small  wagon  covered  with  canvas 
and  drawn  by  four  mules,  and  running  twice  a  month; 

68 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

but  it  carried  passengers  clear  through  from  the  Mis- 
souri River  to  Utah.  The  wagon  train  gave  it  a  cheer 
as  it  trundled  by. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  when  you  reach  Leaven- 
worth,  Red  ?  "  asked  Billy  one  day,  when  they  were 
riding  along.  Leavenworth  was  now  only  a  few  days 
ahead. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Davy.  "  I  guess  I  can 
find  a  job  somewhere.  I'll  work  for  my  board." 

"  Oh,  pshaw !  I'll  get  you  a  job  with  a  bull  train," 
spoke  Billy  confidently.  "  I'll  ask  Mr.  Russell  or  Mr. 
Majors.  They'll  take  care  of  any  friend  of  mine,  and 
you've  proved  you're  the  right  stuff.  But  first  you 
come  home  with  me.  I'll  give  you  a  good  time.  Wild 
Bill's  coming,  too,  after  a  while." 

"  Maybe  your  folks  won't  want  me." 

This  made  Billy  almost  mad. 

"  They  will,  too.  What  do  you  talk  that  way  for  ? 
You  ought  to  see  my  mother.  I've  got  the  best  mother 
that  ever  lived.  She'll  be  glad  to  see  anybody  that  I 
bring  home,  and  so  will  my  sisters,  and  Turk.  You 
come  along.  The  trail  goes  right  past  the  place,  and 
we'll  quit  there,  and  not  wait  to  reach  Leavenworth. 
I'll  get  paid  off  first." 

There  was  no  resisting  Billy,  and  Davy  promised. 

Yes,  evidently  Leavenworth  and  the  end  of  that 
long  Overland  Trail  were  near.  The  talk  in  the  train 
was  largely  of  Fort  Leavenworth  and  Leavenworth 
City,  where  the  train  would  be  broken  and  reorganized 

64 


VISITING  BILLY  CODY 

for  another  trip,  and  the  men  would  have  a  short  rest 
and  see  the  sights,  if  they  chose.  New  farms  were 
being  passed,  and  the  beginnings  of  new  settlements ; 
and  the  number  of  emigrant  outfits  was  much  in- 
creased. The  greetings  all  referred  to  the  farther 
West — Kansas,  Utah,  and  California  were  on  every 
tongue.  Over  the  trail  hung  a  constant  dust  of  travel, 
and  the  air  was  vibrant  with  the  spirit  of  pioneers 
pushing  their  way  into  a  new  country.  These  men, 
women  and  children,  travelling  with  team  and  wagon. 
were  brave  people.  Nothing,  not  even  the  Indians, 
was  keeping  them  back.  They  intended  to  settle  some- 
where and  establish  homes  again.  The  sight  some- 
times made  Z^avy  sick  at  heart,  because  he,  too,  had 
been  travelling  with  one  of  these  household  wagons; 
but  the  Indians  had  "  wiped  it  out." 

Well,  he  was  in  good  hands  now.  Billy  Cody 
wouU  see  him  through. 

"We'll  strike  the  Salt  Creek  Valley  to-morrow 
morning,"  announced  Billy.  "  Hurrah !  I'll  get  my 
pay  order  to-night,  so  we  can  cut  away  to-morrow 
without  any  waiting." 

The  morning  was  yet  young  when  Billy  pointed 
ahead. 

"  When  we  get  over  this  hill  we'll  see  where  I  live. 
Red.  It's  yonder,  on  the  other  side." 

The  trail  was  ascending  a  long  hill.  From  the  top 
Billy  waved  his  hat. 

"There's  the  Salt  Creek  Valley.     I  can  see  the 

5  66 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

house,  too.  That's  it,  down  below.  Goodby,  every- 
body. Come  on,  Red."  And  with  a  whoop  away  raced 
Billy  down  the  hill. 

As  he  rode  he  whistled  shrill. 

"  Watch  for  Turk,"  he  cried  to  Red,  galloping  be- 
hind. And  presently  he  cried  again :  "  There  he  comes ! 
I  knew  he  would !  " 

Sure  enough,  from  the  house,  before  and  below, 
near  the  trail,  out  had  darted  a  dog,  to  stand  a  mo- 
ment, listening  and  peering — then,  head  up  and  ears 
pricked,  to  line  himself  at  full  speed  for  Billy.  On  he 
scoured  (what  a  big  fellow  he  was  when  he  drew 
near),  while  Billy  whistled  and  shouted  and  laughed 
and  praised. 

When  they  met,  Billy  flung  himself  from  his  saddle 
for  a  moment,  and  he  and  the  big  dog  wrestled  in  sheer 
delight. 

"  Isn't  he  a  dandy  ?  "  called  Billy  to  Red.  "  Smart- 
est old  fellow  in  Kansas.  He  saved  my  sisters'  lives 
once  from  a  panther.  I'd  rather  have  him  than  a  man 
any  time." 

They  rode  on,  with  Turk  gambolling  beside  them. 
He  was  a  brindled  boar  hound,  looking  like  a  Great 
Dane. 

Now  Turk  raced  ahead,  as  if  to  carry  the  news; 
and  several  people  had  emerged  from  the  house  and 
were  gathered  before  the  door  gazing.  Billy  waved 
his  big  hat,  and  they  waved  back.  They  were  a  woman 
and  four  girls. 

66 


VISITING  BILLY  CODY 

"  That's  ma  and  my  sisters,"  said  Billy.  Down  he 
rushed,  at  full  gallop  of  his  mule;  Davy  thudded  in  his 
wake. 

"  Hello,  mother !    Hello,  sisses !  " 

"Oh,  it's  Will!    Will!" 

Dismounting,  Billy  was  passed  from  one  to  another 
and  hugged  and  kissed.  He  was  held  the  longest  and 
closest  in  his  mother's  arms.  Turk  barked  and  barked. 

"Here,  Red;  come  on,"  ordered  Billy,  of  Dave. 
"  Mother,  this  is  my  friend  Dave  Scott.  He's  going 
to  visit  us,  and  then  I'll  get  him  a  job  on  the  trail. 
These  girls  are  my  sisters,  Dave.  Don't  be  afraid  of 
them.  Take  care  of  him,  Turk.  He's  all  right,  old 
fellow.  He's  a  partner."  And  Turk,  sniffing  of  Davy 
and  wagging  his  great  tail,  seemed  to  understand. 

"  Any  friend  of  Will's  is  more  than  welcome," 
said  Billy's  mother,  and  she  actually  kissed  Dave.  The 
girls  shyly  shook  hands,  and  he  knew  that  they  wel- 
comed him,  too. 

Then  they  all  went  into  the  house,  where  Billy 
must  sit  down  and  tell  about  his  experiences.  That 
took  some  time,  for  he  had  been  gone  a  year.  But  be- 
fore he  started  to  talk  and  answer  questions,  he  said: 
"  Here,  ma ;  here's  my  pay  check.  How  do  you  want 
it  cashed — gold  or  silver  ?  " 

"  For  goodness  sake,  Will !  "  gasped  Mother  Cody, 
while  his  sisters  peeped.  "  Is  this  all  yours  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Billy,  solemnly  shaking  his  head.  "  I 
can't  say  it  is,  mother." 

37 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Then  whose  is  it?  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  Yours,"  laughed  Billy. 

The  Cody  house  was  a  heavy  log  cabin  of  two 
rooms  and  a  rough  roof,  in  the  Salt  River  Valley  across 
which  ran  the  Salt  Lake  overland  trail.  Fort  Leaven- 
worth  and  the  Missouri  River  were  only  four  miles 
eastward,  and  two  miles  below  Fort  Leavenworth  was 
Leavenworth  City.  The  Cody  farm  had  been  located 
by  Billy's  father  as  soon  as  Kansas  had  been  opened 
for  settlement,  in  1853,  but  Billy's  father  had  died  two 
years  ago.  As  Davy  soon  saw,  Billy  was  the  man  of 
the  family,  and  whatever  he  earned  was  badly  needed. 

It  was  good  fun  visiting  at  the  Codys.  There  was 
Mrs.  Cody  and  the  four  girls,  Julia,  Eliza,  Helen  and 
May,  who  seemed  to  think  that  Billy  knew  everything. 
Julia  was  older  than  he,  but  the  others  were  younger. 
There  was  Turk  the  big  dog;  and  not  far  from  the 
Cody  place  lived  other  settlers  who  had  children.  But 
among  all  the  boys  Billy  Cody  was  the  only  one  who 
had  been  out  across  the  plains  drawing  man's  pay  with 
a  wagon  train. 

The  Codys  lived  right  at  the  edge  of  the  Kickapoo 
Indian  reservation.  Billy  knew  the  Indians  and  they 
liked  him;  he  could  shoot  with  bow  and  arrow,  and 
could  talk  Kickapoo,  and  had  learned  a  lot  of  clever 
ways  to  camp  and  travel. 

Best  of  all,  past  the  Cody  place,  across  Salt  Creek 
Valley  wended  the  Overland  Trail — climbing  the  hill 
Here,  and  disappearing  into  the  west.  Over  it  always 


VISITING  BILLY  CODY 

hung  that  veil  of  dust  from  the  teams  and  wagons  that 
had  set  out.  All  kinds  of  "outfits,"  as  Billy  called 
them,  travelled  it :  the  straining,  creaking  "  bull  trains," 
carrying  freight  for  the  big  freighting  firm  of  Russell, 
Majors  £  Waddell ;  the  settlers,  bound  westward,  with 
their  canvas-topped  wagons  bursting  with  household 
goods,  the  women  and  children  often  walking  along- 
side ;  soldiers,  for  the  forts  of  the  Indian  country ;  gold- 
seekers  with  pack  mules ;  "  tame  "  Indians,  from  the 
reservations  or  from  outside  villages;  parties  return- 
ing for  the  "  States,"  from  California  and  Utah  and 
the  mountains,  some  of  them  with  droves  of  horses, 
some  without  anything  at  all. 

It  was  a  very  important  highway,  this  Salt  Lake, 
California  and  Oregon  "  Overland  "  Trail,  which  had 
one  beginning  at  Leavenworth  on  the  Missouri,  only 
six  miles  from  the  Cody  place ;  and  the  Codys  saw  all 
the  travel  that  started  on  it.  So  no  wonder  Billy  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  be  a  plainsman  and  work  on  the 
trail;  and  no  wonder  that  Davy  wanted  to  do  like- 
wise. It  seemed  a  useful  work,  and  much  needed;  but 
it  called  for  stout  mind  and  brave  heart,  as  well  as 
sturdy  body.  As  for  sturdy  body  the  work  itself  made 
people  strong.  The  proper  mind  and  heart  were  the 
more  necessary  qualifications. 

Billy  soon  took  the  two  mules  into  Leavenworth, 
and  returned  them  to  the  company.  When  he  came 
home,  he  gave  his  mother  a  double  handful  of  gold 
pieces. 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Will,  it  doesn't  seem  possible  that  you've  earned 
all  this !" 

"  Well,  I  guess  if  you'd  been  along,  ma,  you'd  have 
known  that  I  earned  them;  wouldn't  she,  Dave!" 
laughed  Billy.  "  I  earned  enough  just  while  I  was  in 
the  mule  fort  to  keep  us  the  rest  of  our  lives — only, 
I  haven't  got  it  yet." 

"  You'll  never  go  out  again,  will  you,  Will  ?  "  ap- 
pealed his  mother  anxiously.  "  Promise  me." 

Billy  put  his  arms  about  her  and  hugged  her  tight. 
She  was  a  frail  little  mother,  not  nearly  as  strong  as 
Billy,  and  she  never  felt  well,  Billy  had  explained  to 
Dave.  Now  he  said,  holding  her : 

"  I  can't  promise,  ma.  We  need  the  money,  and 
that's  the  quickest  way  to  earn  it.  But  I  always  come 
back  safe,  don't  I?  Don't  you  ever  worry  about  me. 
I  can  take  care  of  myself.  I'm  as  good  as  a  man,  you 
know." 

Mother  Cody  only  sighed,  and  kissed  him.  She 
said  nothing  more. 


V 
DAVY  GOES  ON  HERD 


"  RED/*  said  Billy,  after  three  weeks  had  passed, 
"  what  do  you  want  to  do  ?  I'm  going  out  again/' 

"  Where,  Billy?  "  asked  Dave. 

"  Out  across  the  plains.  Got  another  job  with  a 
bull  train.  I  can't  stand  this  loafing.  You  can  stay 
here,  I  reckon.  My  mother' 11  be  glad  to  have  you. 
Or  I'll  get  you  a  job  with  the  company/' 

Of  course,  Davy  had  no  notion  of  staying  on  at  the 
Cody  home,  where  means  were  scant  and  where  Mrs. 
Cody,  helped  by  Billy,  had  all  she  could  do  to  take 
care  of  her  own  children.  No ;  he  wanted  to  earn  his 
way  in  the  world. 

"  I  think  I'd  rather  go  to  work,"  he  answered. 
"  When  will  you  start,  Billy?  " 

"  Next  week.  Come  on  into  town.  We'll  see  Mr. 
Russell.  He'll  fix  you  out." 

"  Maybe  I'm  too  small." 

"  No,  you  aren't.  Size  isn't  what  counts,  out  here. 
It's  what  a  fellow  does,  not  how  he  looks.  See  ?  " 

This  sounded  encouraging,  for  Billy  seemed  to 
know.  Hadn't  he  gone  to  work  himself  herding  cattle 

71 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

for  the  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  Freighting  Com- 
pany, when  he  was  aged  only  ten?  And  now  at 
thirteen  he  was  almost  the  same  as  a  man !  Davy  de- 
termined to  show  his  own  pluck,  and  do  his  best,  and 
make  himself  a  place  as  a  worker  in  those  busy  days 
when  the  great  West  was  being  settled. 

That  noon  Billy  borrowed  a  couple  of  ponies  from 
a  neighbor,  and  he  and  Dave  rode  in  to  Leavenworth 
City. 

"  That  Mr.  Russell  is  the  finest  man  you  ever  met," 
declared  Billy.  "  Mr.  Majors  is  a  good  one,  too,  but 
Mr.  Russell  is  the  one  who's  taken  special  care  of  me. 
He  was  a  mighty  close  friend  of  my  father's ;  when  dad 
was  selling  hay  to  Fort  Leavenworth  Mr.  Russell  let 
me  ride  about  the  country  with  him  and  I  learned  a  lot 
about  the  freighting  business.  Times  looked  kind  of 
hard  and  somebody  stole  my  pony,  and  he  told  me  to 
keep  a  stiff  upper  lip  and  come  to  Leavenworth  and 
he'd  give  me  a  job  herding  at  twenty-five  a  month. 
That  was  four  years  ago.  I've  been  working  for  the 
company  ever  since,  except  when  I  had  to  go  to  school. 
When  I  started  in,  it  was  just  Russell  &  Majors — Wil- 
liam H.  Russell  and  Alexander  Majors;  last  spring 
Mr.  William  Waddell  joined  them,  and  now  the  com- 
pany is  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell.  Mr.  Majors  has 
been  freighting  ever  since  eighteen  forty-eight,  on  the 
Santa  Fe  Trail  down  into  New  Mexico.  Now  the 
company  hauls  all  the  government  stuff  from  Fort 
Leavenworth  across  the  plains  to  Fort  Laramie  and 

72 


DAVY  GOES  ON  HERD 

over  to  Salt  Lake.  That  train  I  went  out  with  last 
summer  carried  nearly  two  hundred  thousand  pounds 
of  freight.  They're  running  about  three  thousand 
wagons  now,  and  use  four  thousand  men.  They're  a 
big  company,  but  they  treat  their  men  right ;  and  what- 
ever Mr.  Russell  or  Mr.  Majors  offers  you,  you  take. 
If  we  don't  find  either  of  them  at  the  fort  they'll  be  in 
town,  I  reckon. 

Fort  Leavenworth  was  located  on  the  high  land, 
overlooking  the  Missouri  River,  two  miles  above 
Leavenworth  City.  It  was  an  important,  solid  fort, 
with  stone  buildings  grouped  about  a  large  parade 
ground,  and  the  flag  floating  in  the  breeze.  Soldiers 
of  the  infantry,  cavalry,  and  dragoons  were  moving 
hither-thither,  drilling  or  attending  to  other  duties, 
and  on  the  outskirts  of  the  post  were  parked  a  great 
number  of  freight  wagons,  attended  by  their  teamsters. 

As  he  and  Davy  rode  through  the  wagons,  on  either 
side  of  the  trail,  Billy  called  out  to  one  of  the  men. 

"  Hello,  Buck." 

"  Hello,  Billy." 

"  Is  Mr.  Russell  around  here?  " 

"  Yes.    He's  over  at  the  quartermaster's  office/' 

"  When  do  you  pull  out,  Buck?  " 

"  Thursday  the  tenth,  Billy." 

"  All  right.    I'll  be  on  hand." 

"  That's  Buck  Bomer,"  explained  Billy,  as  he  and 
Davy  rode  on.  "  He's  the  wagon  boss  I'm  going  out 
with.  Now  we'll  find  Mr.  Russell." 

73 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

They  had  no  difficulty  in  passing  the  guard  sta- 
tioned beside  the  road  where  it  entered  the  edge  of 
the  post.  Billy  seemed  to  be  a  familiar  figure  here.  He 
led  the  way  to  a  large  building  that  looked  like  a  ware- 
house, where  several  freight  wagons  were  standing  and 
where  soldiers  and  civilians  were  trudging  about,  as 
if  loading  freight. 

At  the  end  of  the  platform  Billy  slipped  off  his 
horse,  and  tied  him ;  Dave  did  likewise. 

"Come  on,"  bade  Billy.  "There's  Mr.  Russell 
now.  That  sandy  little  man  talking  with  the  officer. 
We'll  hail  him  when  we  get  the  chance." 

They  lingered  a  few  minutes,  while  Billy  edged 
closer,  waiting  to  be  recognized.  Davy  followed  him 
about  anxiously.  Presently  Mr.  Russell  caught  sight 
of  Billy,  and  smiled  and  nodded.  The  officer  turned 
away,  and  Billy  sprang  forward  to  seize  the  oppor- 
tunity. 

"How  are  you,  Billy,"  greeted  Mr.  Russell. 
"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  I've  brought  my  friend  Dave  Scott  over,  Mr. 
Russell,"  informed  Billy.  "He's  the  boy  I  spoke 
about.  He'd  like  a  job,  if  you  can  give  it  to  him." 

Mr.  Russell  eyed  Dave  up  and  down.  A  small  man 
was  Mr.  Russell.  He  had  a  freckled  complexion,  a 
rather  dried-up  appearance,  and  an  abrupt  manner ;  and 
he  was  as  keen  as  tacks.  He  did  not  seem  to  be  a  man 
who  could  handle  rough  teamsters;  but  evidently  he 

74 


DAVY  GOES  ON  HERD 

could  Davy  tried  to  stand  his  gaze,  and  not  to  be 
embarrassed. 

"What  can  you  do?" 

"  He'll  tackle  anything." 

"  He's  the  boy  who  left  his  shirt  to  the  buffalo,  is 
he?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     We  all  liked  him  with  the  wagons/' 

"  Well,  I  can't  send  him  out  this  time.  We  don't 
need  him  with  a  train."  Mr.  Russell  spoke  directly  to 
Davy.  "  Did  you  ever  herd  ?  " 

"  Not  much,  sir.    But  I  think  I  could." 

"  Well,  you  go  on  down  to  Leavenworth  and  see 
Mr.  Majors.  He's  hiring  the  herding  end  of  the  busi- 
ness. If  he  wants  to  take  you  on,  all  right."  And  Mr. 
Russell  turned  away.  He  was  a  man  of  short  speech. 

"  Much  obliged,  Mr.  Russell,"  answered  the  two 
boys. 

"  Come  on,  Dave,"  bade  Billy,  making  for  the  two 
ponies. 

They  mounted,  to  go  on  to  Leavenworth  City. 
This  was  in  plain  sight  from  the  high  land  where  the 
fort  was  located.  It  was  nestled  prettily  in  a  wooded 
basin  beside  the  river  two  miles  southeast.  Fort 
Leavenworth  was  on  the  trail  between  it  and  Salt 
Creek  Valley,  and  the  trail  continued  to  the  Missouri 
at  the  town  itself. 

A  lively  place  Leavenworth  proved  to  be.  It  con- 
tained about  five  thousand  people,  living  there,  and  a 
lot  more  who  were  simply  pausing  until  they  had  out- 

75 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

fitted  for  the  trail  westward.  The  streets  were 
crowded  with  teams  and  wagons  and  people;  and  the 
river  was  dotted  with  rowboats,  barges  and  several 
steamboats. 

Billy  Cody  hustled  right  along,  without  giving  Dave 
much  time  to  look  about.  Evidently  he  was  bound  for 
the  company  office.  In  fact,  suddenly  he  said  so. 

"There's  the  Planters'  Hotel,  Red,"  he  spoke, 
pointing.  "  It's  the  biggest.  The  company's  office  is 
right  across  the  street,  kittycorner.  See  it?" 

Kittycorner  from  the  Planters'  Hotel  (which  was 
a  large  three-story  building,  with  a  wide  porch  and  a 
verandah,  too,  running  around  its  face)  Dave  saw  a 
sign  reading,  in  big  letters,  "  Russell,  Majors  &  Wad- 
dell,"  on  a  brick  building.  The  streets  hereabouts  were 
more  crowded  than  at  any  other  point,  and  the  two 
boys  had  difficulty  in  threading  their  way,  dodging 
people  and  horses  and  oxen  and  wagons. 

"  Better  tie  up  here,"  spoke  Billy  abruptly,  his 
quick  eye  sighting  a  vacant  hitching  spot  at  the  side- 
walk. "  This  place  is  getting  too  populous  for  me ; 
can't  hardly  breathe." 

They  wedged  in,  tied  their  horses,  and  Billy  led  the 
way  to  the  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  office — head- 
quarters of  the  great  overland  freighting  firm. 

"That's  Mr.  Majors  at  the  desk,"  he  informed, 
undertone,  to  Dave,  on  the  threshold.  And — u  How  do 
you  do,  Mr.  Waddell  ?  "  he  said  respectfully,  as  another 
man  was  brushing  past  them. 

76 


DAVY  GOES  ON  HERD 

"  How-do-do,  Billy,"  responded  the  man.  "  Back 
again,  are  you?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  take  care  of  yourself,  my  boy,"  and  Mr. 
Waddell  hastened  away,  as  if  on  matters  important. 

"  He's  the  third  partner,"  whispered  Billy.  "  But 
you  don't  see  him  very  often.  Mr.  Majors  and  Mr. 
Russell  seem  to  run  the  plains  part  of  the  business. 

Mr.  Waddell  had  been  a  stoutly-built  man,  with 
florid  complexion  and  full,  heavy  face  inclining  to  jaw. 
Mr.  Majors  was  almost  his  opposite,  being  a  rather 
tall  man,  although  strongly  built,  with  a  kindly,  sober 
face  and  a  long  brown  beard.  As  Billy  and  Dave  ap- 
proached his  desk  he  glanced  up. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Majors?  "  said  Billy,  hat  in 
hand. 

"How  are  you,  Billy?" 

"  This  is  my  friend  Dave  Scott,  Mr.  Majors.  He's 
looking  for  a  job.  He's  been  staying  at  my  house  since 
we  came  in  last  month  with  Lew  Simpson's  train  from 
Laramie.  I'm  going  out  again  in  a  day  or  so,  and  he 
wants  to  get  to  work.  We  saw  Mr.  Russell  up  at  the 
fort,  and  he  said  for  us  to  come  down  here  to  see  you." 

"When  did  you  see  him?"  queried  Mr.  Majors 
crisply. 

"  We  just  come  from  him.  He  thought  there  might 
be  a  job  of  herding  open." 

'l  That  boy's  pretty  young." 

"  He's  not  any  younger  than  I  was  when  I  started 
77 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

in,  Mr.  Majors/*  Billy  spoke  like  a  man,  and  Mr. 
Majors  appeared  to  regard  him  as  a  man. 

"  Where  are  your  parents?  "  asked  Mr.  Majors  of 
Davy. 

Dave  gulped. 

"  I  haven't  any.    I  was  with  my  uncle/' 

"Where's  he?" 

Davy  shook  his  head  and  gulped  again.  Billy 
helped  him  out. 

"  The  Injuns  struck  their  wagon  on  the  trail  and 
wiped  them  out,  Mr.  Majors.  The  Cut  Nose  band  had 
Dave,  and  he  came  into  our  train  after  that  mule  fort 
fight.  He  made  good  with  us ;  Lew  Simpson  and  Wild 
Bill  and  George  Woods  and  everybody  will  say  that; 
and  he'll  make  good  anywhere  you  put  him,  I  be- 
lieve." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Majors,  "  if  he  has  no  folks 
that's  a  different  matter.  I  don't  want  to  encourage 
any  boy  to  leave  his  home  when  he  ought  to  be  going 
to  school,  and  getting  the  right  bringing  up  generally. 
It's  a  rough  life  for  a  boy  or  man  either  out  on  the 
plains.  Do  you  swear  ?  "  he  demanded,  suddenly. 

Dave  stammered. 

"  I  don't  mean  to.    I  don't  think  I  do." 

"  That's  right,"  asserted  Mr.  Majors.  "  I  won't 
have  anybody  around  or  working  for  our  company  who 
blasphemes  or  lies.  I  won't  have  it  at  all.  There's  no 
sense  in  swearing.  All  right  then.  I  can  put  you  at 
herding,  if  you  really  want  to  work.  We'll  pay  you 

78 


DAVY  GOES  ON  HERD 

twenty-five  dollars  a  month,  the  same  as  we  pay  all 
herders.  Got  a  horse  ?  " 

"  No,  sir/'  said  Davy. 

"  That  doesn't  matter.  We'll  furnish  you  a  mount, 
of  course.  You  can  have  the  one  that  other  herder's 
using.  I  hope  you'll  make  a  better  herder  than  most 
of  the  others.  Herding  is  a  business  just  like  any 
other  business,  my  boy.  Whatever  you  do,  do  well. 
If  you  make  a  good  herder,  we'll  give  you  a  chance  at 
something  more.  Nearly  everybody  has  to  start  in  at 
herding.  Billy  here  did.  Now  he's  drawing  full  pay 
with  the  wagon  trains.  He'll  tell  you  what  to  do.  You 
can  sign  the  pay  roll  and  start  in  this  afternoon.  Mr. 
Meyers,"  and  Mr.  Majors  addressed  his  book-keeper, 
"  have  this  boy  sign  the  pay  roll  and  the  pledge.  He's 
going  on  herd,  with  the  cattle  out  west  of  town." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Majors,"  answered  the  book-keeper, 
opening  a  large  book.  "  Come  over  here,  boy." 

Davy  thought  this  rather  sudden,  but  made  no  com- 
ment. He  walked  boldly  over  to  the  book-keeper. 

"  Sign  here,"  bade  Mr.  Meyers,  indicating  with  his 
finger.  And  Davy  wrote,  in  his  best  manner :  "  David 
Scott." 

"  Here's  something  else,"  bade  the  book-keeper. 
"  Better  read  it.  We  all  have  to  sign  it,  if  we  work  for 
the  company." 

Davy  read  the  slip.    It  said : 

"  While  I  am  in  the  employ  of  Russell,  Majors  & 
Waddell,  I  agree  not  to  use  profane  language,  not  to 

79 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

get  drunk,  not  to  gamble,  not  to  treat  animals  cruelly, 
and  not  to  do  anything  else  that  is  incompatible  with 
the  conduct  of  a  gentleman.  And  I  agree,  if  I  violate 
any  of  the  above  conditions,  to  accept  my  discharge 
without  any  pay  for  my  services." 

Mr.  Majors  had  strolled  over,  to  inspect,  as  Davy 
signed.  He  nodded. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you  can  write,  my  boy,"  he  said. 
"  That's  more  than  some  of  the  men  can  do.  Billy 
here  had  to  make  his  mark  the  first  time  he  signed 
with  us." 

"  He  can  write  now,  though,"  informed  Davy, 
loyally,  remembering  the  scribbling  on  the  wagon. 
"  I've  seen  him." 

"  Yes,  Billy's  found  out  that  he's  no  worse  off  for 
having  put  in  some  time  at  school.  He'll  be  glad 
enough  of  all  the  school  that  he  can  get  before  he's 
gone  much  farther.  Have  you  got  bedding,  my  boy?  " 

"  N-no,  I  haven't,"  faltered  Davy.  "  Maybe  I  can 
find  some  though." 

"  We  can  rake  up  a  quilt  or  two  for  you/'  offered 
Mr.  Majors.  But  Billy  spoke  quickly. 

"  No ;  we'll  fix  him  out  with  bedding.  We've  some 
extra  quilts  at  the  house,  Mr.  Majors.  I'll  get  them 
on  our  way  out." 

"  Can  you  go  out  with  him,  Billy,  and  tell  him  what 
to  do?  Number  two  herd  is  out  six  miles.  You  can 
find  it.  Stop  at  the  fort  and  tell  Mr.  Russell  to  furnish 
him  a  mule." 

80 


DAVY  GOES  ON  HERD 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  All  right.  You  take  him  and  post  him."  Mr. 
Majors  extended  his  hand  to  Davy,  who  shook  with 
him.  "  Do  your  duty,  and  a  little  more  whenever  you 
have  the  chance;  don't  curse,  don't  learn  to  drink, 
keep  Sunday  as  much  as  you  can,  read  the  Bible,  and 
look  people  in  the  face.  Don't  do  anything  your  mother 
wouldn't  want  you  to  do,  I  hope  to  hear  a  good  report 
of  you.  We  need  the  right  kind  of  men  in  the  west, 
and  the  boy  like  you  will  make  the  man  of  to-morrow." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Davy.    "  I'll  try." 

He  followed  Billy  out;  and  they  remounted  their 
ponies. 

"  Good,"  remarked  Billy,  as  they  rode  away  up 
the  thronged  street.  "  Mr.  Majors  is  a  queer  sort,  but 
he's  the  right  stuff.  He's  a  crank  on  swearing  and 
drinking.  We  all  have  to  sign  tha*  pledge,  and  if  he 
hears  a  man  swearing  he  goes  straight  to  him  and 
makes  him  quit.  But  everybody  likes  Mr.  Majors, 
and  they  all  try  to  keep  the  pledge.  Mr.  Russell  isn't 
so  strict,  though  he  backs  up  Mr.  Majors.  That's  a 
new  wrinkle  to  the  plains — that  pledge  business." 

Davy  nodded. 

"  There's  no  sense  in  swearing,  anyhow,"  mused 
Billy.  "  Jiminy,  but  my  mother  hated  to  have  me 
start  out  bull  whacking.  It's  a  tough  life,  and  some  of 
the  teamsters,  too,  are  about  as  tough  as  you  make 
'em.  Ma  saw  Mr.  Russell  and  Mr.  Majors  and  they 
talked  with  her  and  said  they'd  look  out  for  me :  and 
6  81 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

she  read  the  pledge,  and  so  she  let  me  go.  Lew  Simp- 
son is  a  hard  looker,  you  know.  She  didn't  like  him 
until  she  found  out  from  Mr.  Russell  that  he  wasn't 
half  as  bad  as  he  seemed.  I'm  mighty  glad  I'm  here 
to  post  you  on  that  herding  business.  It's  no  easy 
job  herding  a  thousand  cattle.  But  you'll  make  good. 
All  you  have  to  do  is  to  tend  to  your  job.  Mother '11 
fix  you  up  with  bedding,  and  if  you  need  any  clothes 
that,  we  haven't  got,  you  can  get  them  on  the  company 
account  and  they'll  take  it  out  of  your  pay.  See?  " 

So,  Billy  chatting  and  Davy  listening,  they  trotted 
along  on  the  road  up  to  the  fort. 

Mr.  Russell  was  still  at  the  quartermaster's  build- 
ing busy  loading  a  bull  train  and  checking  it  up.  Billy 
reported  to  him,  and  he  nodded. 

"  All  right,"  he  said.  "  On  your  way  out  you  tell 
Buck  Bomer  to  give  you  a  mule  from  his  outfit." 

They  found  Buck  in  the  wagon  camp  outside  the 
fort.  He  turned  over  to  them  a  little  mouse-colored 
mule,  with  a  rawhide  bridle  and  an  old  stock  saddle. 
The  bridle  had  rope  lines  and  the  saddle  was  worn  and 
ragged,  and  the  saddle-blanket  was  a  piece  of  sacking. 
Altogether  the  equipment  looked  rather  sorry,  but 
Davy  said  not  a  word.  He  made  up  his  mind  that  he 
would  be  better  than  his  outfit. 

"You  don't  care,"  consoled  Billy.  "It's  good 
enough  as  a  starter.  If  you  need  better  you'll  get  it 
after  a  while.  We'll  stop  at  the  house,  and  get  the  other 
stuff.  Then  we'll  go  on.  I  know  where  the  herd  is." 


VI 

DAVY  HAS  AN  ADVENTURE 


AT  least  a  thousand  cattle  were  spread  out,  grazing 
in  the  grassy  bottom.  Much  of  the  grass  was  still 
green,  some  patches  had  been  cured  by  the  sun;  and 
the  broad  expanse,  under  the  blue  sky,  with  the  shadows 
of  the  cattle  now  clearly  cast  by  the  setting  sun,  made 
a  pleasant  picture.  On  the  edges  of  the  grazing  herd 
were  the  herders,  sitting  their  horses  or  mules.  The 
canvas  top  of  the  mess  wagon  shone  white  beyond 
the  herd.  Down  the  hill  into  the  valley,  and  up  the 
opposite  hill,  out  of  the  valley,  were  toiling  slowly 
two  emigrant  trains  of  wagons  and  people,  following 
the  Overland  Trail  into  the  farther  west. 

"  We'll  go  over  to  the  mess  wagon  and  I'll  intro- 
duce you ;  then  I'll  skip  back/'  said  Billy.  "  Stand  in 
with  the  cook,  do  what  the  boss  tells  you,  mind  your 
own  business,  and  you'll  get  along  fine.  Don't  be 
fresh,  that's  all." 

Davy  resolved  that  he  would  remember.  He 
wanted  to  be  a  success. 

On  their  mounts  they  galloped  across  the  turfy  bot- 
tom, and  rounding  the  herd  arrived  at  the  mess  wagon. 
Smoke  was  already  rising  from  the  cook's  fire;  and 

83 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

the  cook  himself  was  moving  about,  from  wagon  to 
fire,  and  fussing  with  his  row  of  black  kettles,  set 
beside  the  fire  or  atop  the  coals.  The  fire  had  been 
made  in  a  long  shallow  trench.  The  pots  had  covers 
on  them,  Their  steam  smelled  good. 

The  cook  merely  glanced  up  as  the  two  boys  ap- 
proached. Halting  and  dismounting  nimbly,  Billy 
hailed  him. 

"  Hello,  Sam." 

The  cook  now  paused  and  gazed.  He  was  a  short, 
pudgy  man,  with  a  big  bristly  moustache  and  a  broken 
nose.  He  wore  a  wide  brimmed  hat  and  a  floursack 
apron,  and  boots.  Odd  enough  he  looked,  cooking  at 
the  fire. 

•:  Hello,  Billy.    What's  the  matter?  " 

"  Nothing  much.  Sam,  this  is  Dave  Scott,  a  friend 
of  mine.  He's  going  on  herd.  Dave,  shake  hands 
with  Sam  Bean,  the  best  cook  on  the  plains." 

Davy  advanced  and  shook  hands  with  Sam. 

"  Shucks,"  mused  Sam,  surveying  Dave.  "  An- 
other kid,  is  it  ?  Who  sent  him  out ;  the  old  man  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  Mr.  Majors.    Mr.  Russell,  too." 

"  Well,"  said  Sam,  proceeding  with  his  cooking, 
"  I  hope  he's  a  better  kid  than  that  other  one  we've 
had.  That  lad  was  no  good.  All  he  thought  of  was 
eatin'  an'  sleepin'." 

"Davy'll  make  good,  all  right,"  assured  Billy, 
loyally.  "  I'll  back  him  up  on  that.  He  came  in  with 
us  in  Lew  Simpson's  train." 

84 


DAVY  HAS  AN  ADVENTURE 

"  He's  the  kid  who  left  his  shirt  to  the  buffalo?  " 
queried  Hank. 

"  You  bet,"  answered  Billy. 

"  Huh !  "  grunted  Sam,  now  surveying  Davy  with 
new  interest  and  a  little  respect. 

"  Where's  the  boss?  "  asked  Billy. 

"  Comin',"  said  Sam,  with  jerk  of  his  head. 

A  horseman  was  galloping  in  from  the  herd;  but 
part  way  he  whirled,  and  went  back  again. 

"  That's  Hank  Bassett,  isn't  it?  "  asked  Billy,  keen 
eyed.  "  He's  a  good  one,  Dave.  He'll  treat  you  right 
if  you  don't  get  fresh.  Well,  I  reckon  I'll  light  out. 
I'll  leave  you  with  Sam.  See  you  later." 

He  shook  hands  with  Dave  and  climbed  on  his 
pony. 

"  Where  you  bound,  Billy?  "  queried  Sam. 

"  Going  out  again  Thursday  with  Buck  Bonier  to 
Laramie." 

"  Good  luck." 

"  Same  to  you,"  replied  Billy,  and  rode  away. 
Looking  back  once,  he  waved  his  hand ;  Sam  and  Dave 
waved  answer. 

"  Might  as  well  unpack  your  mule  an'  lay  out  your 
beddin',"  advised  Sam,  gruffly,  to  Dave.  "  Wouldn't 
unsaddle  yet,  though.  Wait  till  the  boss  comes  in. 
Tie  your  mule  to  a  wagon  wheel." 

Davy  promptly  set  about  it ;  he  unpacked  his  bed- 
ding, and  tied  his  mule. 

"If  you're  not  too  busy,"  quoth  Sam,  sarcastically, 

85 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  you  might  fetch  me  in  some  more  buffalo  chips,  if 
you  can  find  'em.  There  ought  to  be  some,  out  a  ways, 
if  those  blamed  emigrants  ain't  cleaned  'em  up.  It's 
a  wonder  to  me  how  far  they'll  go  lookin'  for  fuel. 
Here,  take  a  sack."  And  he  tossed  an  old  gunny  sack 
at  Davy.  "  Jest  pile  'em  on  it ;  don't  stop  to  stuff  'em 
inside." 

Davy  alertly  seized  the  sacking,  and  started  out. 
He  knew  what  buffalo  chips  were:  the  dried  drop- 
pings of  the  buffalo  that  used  to  roam  by  thousands 
through  the  valley.  They  had  been  driven  out  of  it, 
largely  by  the  traffic,  but  they  had  left  their  wallows 
and  their  "  chips." 

The  chips  had  been  well  gleaned  for  other  cooks, 
and  he  must  wander  some  distance  from  the  wagon 
before  he  found  enough  to  pay  for  the  picking  up. 
However,  in  due  time  he  returned  with  all  that  the 
sack  could  hold.  The  buffalo  chips  made  a  fine  fire, 
with  little  smoke  and  much  heat.  And  they  were  easy 
and  cheap.  Everybody  used  them  in  travelling  across 
the  plains. 

Sam  grunted,  whether  pleased  or  not,  as  Davy 
dumped  the  load  by  the  fire. 

"  Now  fetch  me  some  fresh  water  from  the  creek, 
will  you?  "  bade  Sam.  "  There's  a  bucket." 

The  creek  was  a  side  branch  of  the  Salt  Creek,  and 
both  streams  were  running  low;  but  Davy  managed 
to  dip  the  bucket  almost  full  of  water.  He  brought  it 

88 


DAVY  HAS  AN  ADVENTURE 

back.  Sam  grunted  what  might  have  been  thanks 
or  not. 

"  There  comes  the  boss/'  he  said. 

The  man  on  the  white  horse  was  galloping  in  again ; 
presently  he  dismounted  at  the  fire.  He  was  a  tall 
man,  with  scraggy  beard,  gray  eyes  and  a  very  tanned 
skin.  He  wore  slouch  hat,  blue  flannel  shirt,  jeans 
trousers  and  boots.  He  glanced  keenly  at  Dave. 

"  Here's  another  kid  for  you  to  break  in,  Hank," 
informed  the  cook  shortly. 

"  How'd  you  get  here?  "  demanded  Hank  of  Dave. 

"  Billy  Cody  fetched  him  out,"  said  the  cook,  over 
his  shoulder,  from  the  wagon. 

"Who  sent  him?" 

"  Mr.  Russell  and  Mr.  Majors  told  me  to  come  out 
and  help  herd,"  answered  Davy,  speaking  for  himself. 

"  Did  you  ever  herd  before?  " 

"  No,  sir;  except  with  an  emigrant  train.  I  herded 
horses  and  cattle  there  some." 

"  Have  you  crossed  the  plains?" 

"  Just  part  way." 

"  He's  the  kid  the  Injuns  had  when  they  corralled 
Simpson  and  Woods  and  little  Billy,  out  near  Cedar 
Bluffs  last  summer,"  reported  Sam  the  cook.  "  Billy 
says  he's  all  right/' 

"  Well,  he's  a  different  color,  anyhow,"  remarked 
Hank,  referring  to  Davy's  red  head.  "  How  old  are 
you?" 

"  Ten  going  on  'leven,"  replied  Davy. 

87 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRIAL 

"What's  your  name?" 

"  David  Scott.    Billy  and  the  others  call  me  '  Red/  " 

"Got  any  folks?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Injuns  wiped  'em  out,"  informed  Sam  the  cook. 
"Remember?" 

Hank  nodded. 

'  Yes.  All  right,"  he  continued,  in  tone  more 
kindly,  to  Dave ;  "  you  can  help  the  cook  to-night.  In 
the  morning  you  can  go  on  herd,  and  see  if  you  can 
hold  the  job.  That  red  thatch  ought  to  give  you  plenty 
of  spunk,  anyhow!  " 

:t  Yes,  sir,"  said  Davy,  encouraged. 

Two  herders  came  in  for  supper,  leaving  one  on 
guard  over  the  herd.  They  were  rough-appearing 
men,  and  Davy  and  his  red  head  had  to  take  consider- 
able banter  and  joking.  He  stood  that  well.  He  tried 
not  to  be  "  fresh  "  or  impertinent ;  and  when  he  didn't 
know  what  he  ought  to  say  he  said  nothing  and  only 
grinned.  After  a  while  the  men  seemed  to  accept  him 
as  a  pretty  good  kind  of  a  boy.  The  fact  that  Billy 
Cody  had  vouched  for  him  was  a  great  help. 

That  night  Davy  slept  on  the  ground  again  (as  he 
had  slept  when  with  the  wagon  trains),  rolled  in  his 
quilts,  his  saddle  for  a  pillow.  Breakfast  was  called 
before  sunrise;  and  after  breakfast  he  went  out  on 
herd. 

"  You'll  be  eight  hours  on  and  four  off,"  instructed 
Hank,  "  except  when  you  ride  in  for  meals.  Tend  to 


DAVY  HAS  AN  ADVENTURE 

business  and  don't  bother  the  cattle  except  when  they're 
straying.  They're  here  to  rest  and  get  their  flesh  on. 
When  they  stray  too  far  turn  'em  back,  but  don't  run 
'em.  I  suppose  Billy  told  you  about  what  to  do,  didn't 
he?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  he  told  me  to  look  out  for  Indians  and 
emigrants  passing  through." 

There  were  two  herders  for  the  herd  to  which  Davy 
was  appointed.  Davy  thought  that  he  was  lucky  in 
his  partner,  whose  name  was  the  Reverend  Benjamin 
Baxter.  When  the  other  men  had  called  him  "  Rev- 
erend," Davy  thought  they  were  joking;  but  he  found 
out  that  Mr.  Baxter  actually  was  a  minister  of  the 
gospel.  He  was  a  pleasant-faced,  thin  young  man, 
with  dark  eyes  and  hollow  cheeks,  and  an  occasional 
cough.  Evidently  he  was  out  on  the  plains  for  his 
health.  His  home  was  Massachusetts ;  but  in  his  plains 
garb  and  his  tan  he  looked  as  much  of  a  Westerner  as 
any  Missourian.  Yes,  Davy  was  lucky  to  be  paired 
off  with  Mr.  Baxter,  who  had  been  well  educated  and 
whom  everybody  seemed  to  like  because,  while  he  was 
a  "  preacher  "  he  was  also  much  of  a  man. 

"  You  ride  around  your  half  of  the  herd  and  I'll 
ride  around  my  half,  Davy,"  said  Mr.  Baxter. 
"  When  we're  about  to  meet  we'll  turn  back.  Take 
things  easy.  You  don't  have  to  ride  every  minute, 
you  know ;  just  enough  to  keep  the  cattle  from  straying 
out  where  they're  liable  to  get  out  of  sight  or  be  picked 

89 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

up  by  somebody  passing.     I'll  let  you  know  when  it's 
time  to  go  in  for  dinner." 

The  herding  did  not  strike  Davy  as  hard  work, 
except  that  it  was  rather  monotonous  and  steady.  It 
was  more  interesting  at  first  than  later.  The  cattle, 
spread  out  loosely  over  a  wide  area,  required  consid- 
erable of  a  ride  along  their  edges.  They  were  all 
work  cattle — steers  or  oxen,  young  and  old,  used  for 
hauling  the  wagons  of  the  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell 
"  bull  trains."  Some  were  decrepit,  worn  out  in  the 
hard  service  across  the  plains ;  others  were  yet  strong, 
and  needed  only  rest  and  feed.  In  the  beginning  Davy 
bestirred  himself  more  than  was  required;  he  was  so 
afraid  lest  any  of  them  might  stray  too  far.  Soon 
he  was  sharp  enough  to  note  that  as  long  as  they  were 
only  grazing,  and  he  could  keep  his  eyes  on  them,  the 
stragglers  might  be  permitted  to  have  a  little  freedom 
to  pick  the  best  grass.  In  fact,  the  whole  herd  con- 
stantly shifted  ground,  gradually  moving  on  from 
clump  to  clump  and  patch  to  patch. 

About  the  middle  of  the  morning  Mr.  Baxter's  first 
shift  of  eight  hours  was  up,  and  another  herder  relieved 
him. 

"  Now  I'll  take  a  sleep,"  he  called  back,  gaily, 
to  Dave  as  he  galloped  for  the  wagon.  "  Have  to 
sleep  when  we  can,  you  know." 

Davy  continued  his  herding  with  the  new  partner— 
who  was  gruff  and  silent,  very  different  from  Mr. 

90 


DAVY  HAS  AN  ADVENTURE 

Baxter.  However,  that  made  little  difference,  for 
herding  did  not  give  much  chance  to  gossip. 

At  noon  Davy  was  sent  in  for  his  turn  at  dinner ; 
and  when  his  four  hours  recess  arrived  he  was  glad 
to  dismount  at  the  wagon  and  lie  in  the  shade.  After 
he  had  served  half  the  night  on  night  guard  and  had 
not  made  any  mistakes,  when  he  crawled  in,  in  the 
chill  and  dark,  under  his  quilts,  and  settled  for  his  short 
sleep,  he  felt  like  a  veteran. 

So  the  days  and  nights  passed,  of  long  hours  in 
the  saddle  and  short  hours  afoot.  The  bull  herd  moved 
from  pasturage  to  pasturage,  with  Sam  and  his  mess 
wagon  keeping  handy.  The  days  were  sunny  fall,  the 
nights  were  crisp,  the  air  pure  except  for  the  dust  stirred 
up  by  the  hoofs  of  the  herd  or  sometimes  drifting  from 
the  great  trail,  the  cattle  gave  little  trouble,  the  mess 
food  was  plenty  although  about  the  same  every  meal, 
and  herding  on  the  plains  proved  not  such  a  disagree- 
able business  as  might  have  been  expected. 

The  chief  annoyance  was  the  rattlesnakes — al- 
though Sam  and  Hank  and  several  others  claimed  that 
the  emigrants  and  the  cattle  had  cleaned  about  all  the 
snakes  out.  However,  on  his  first  day  Davy  rode  over 
two,  and  scarcely  a  day  passed  that  he  did  not  see  three 
or  four.  He  was  told  that  he  must  not  let  one  bite  his 
mule,  for  mules  often  died  from  snake  bite.  Horses 
and  cattle  seemed  stronger;  anyway,  the  cattle  of  the 
bull  herd  seemed  to  be  what  Mr.  Baxter  called  "snake 

91 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

educated " ;  Davy  could  tell  from  their  movements 
that  a  rattlesnake  was  near  them. 

The  most  interesting  part  of  herding  was  the  sight 
of  the  travel  on  the  great  Overland  Trail.  The  Trail 
entered  the  Salt  Creek  Valley  by  a  hill  on  the  east  and 
left  it  by  a  hill  on  the  west ;  and  at  any  hour  of  the  day 
the  white-topped  wagons  of  emigrant  train  and  freight 
train  could  be  seen  descending  and  crossing  and  as- 
cending, some  bound  to  Leaven  worth,  but  the  majority 
bound  westward  for  the  plains  trip. 

Where  they  all  were  going  Davy  used  to  wonder. 
It  seemed  as  though  everybody  from  the  East  was 
moving  into  the  far  West.  Of  course,  some  of  the 
emigrants  were  bound  for  western  Kansas,  where  in 
Arapahoe  County,  at  the  base  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, people  were  seeking  for  gold.  Some  were  hoping 
to  take  up  farms  in  Kansas.  Others  were  aiming  for 
the  Salt  Lake  region,  where  the  Mormons  under 
Brigham  Young  had  settled.  And  others  were  bound 
clear  across  the  continent  to  California  for  gold  and 
for  land.  And  many  did  not  know  exactly  where  they 
were  going,  except  that  they  were  moving  west,  ever 
west,  to  found  new  homes.  The  freight  trains  of  the 
great  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  Company  were  car- 
rying government  stores  to  Fort  Kearney,  in  Nebraska, 
and  Fort  Laramie,  also  of  Nebraska,  on  the  North 
Platte,  and  Fort  Bridger,  in  Utah,  and  Salt  Lake, 
where  troops  had  been  sent  last  winter.  The  dusty 
trail,  bordered  by  camps  old  and  new,  and  by  aban- 

02 


DAVY  HAS  AN  ADVENTURE 

doned  pots  and  pans  and  boxes  and  clothing  and  de- 
serted skeletons  of  cattle  and  horses,  was  never  vacant, 
night  or  day.  Whenever  the  herding  business  led 
Davy  near  to  it  he  viewed  it  with  wonder. 

Herding  took  all  of  Davy's  time.  Occasionally 
Hank  Bassett  went  into  Leavenworth,  and  occasionally 
the  other  men  rode  in — all  but  Mr.  Baxter.  He  and 
Davy  stayed  out.  The  weather  continued  clear  and 
pleasant,  with  the  days  soft  and  sunny,  and  the  nights 
crisp  and  still.  Nobody  paid  much  attention  to  Davy 
now,  for  he  was  proving  a  good  herder,  and  was  ac- 
cepted as  a  member  of  the  herding  mess.  He  was  as 
hard  as  nails,  everything  he  ate  tasted  good,  long  hours 
on  mule  back  did  not  stiffen  him,  and  he  thought  that 
he  knew  every  steer  in  the  big  herd. 

One  big  steer  he  especially  watched.  It  was  a  large 
red  and  white  steer,  with  a  sore  hoof  which  did  not 
heal.  Every  now  and  again  a  portion  of  the  herd  was 
separated  and  driven  in  to  Fort  Leavenworth  for  an- 
other trip  across  the  plains;  and  new  bunches  took 
their  places,  to  rest  up  again.  But  the  old  red  and 
white  steer  stayed.  He  was  foot  sore,  but  he  also  was 
a  wanderer,  for  he  loved  to  stray.  Several  times  during 
each  day  he  would  edge  out  farther  and  farther,  lead- 
ing some  of  his  cronies;  and  in  due  time  Davy  must 
ride  in  front  of  him  and  turn  him  back.  He  was  a 
pesky  animal,  and  caused  much  trouble;  the  third 
herder  wanted  him  killed,  but  Davy  and  Mr.  Baxter 
only  laughed  and  kept  persuading  Hank  to  save  him. 

93 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

After  all,  he  was  only  a  steer,  with  a  mind  of  his  own. 
Maybe  he  would  get  well.  Davy  rather  hoped  that  he 
wouldn't;  he  seemed  to  have  such  a  good  time,  and 
the  worked  cattle  were  so  gaunt  and  scarred  when 
they  returned  from  their  long,  hard  trips. 

Now  it  was  November  of  1858.  The  days  were 
shorter,  the  nights  were  colder,  the  grass  was  failing, 
and  Indian  summer  was  about  to  end.  Soon  the  herds 
would  be  taken  off  the  plains,  for  the  snow  was  due 
and  there  would  not  be  enough  feed.  One  day  Mr. 
Baxter  was  ill  in  camp ;  the  other  herder  was  off,  and 
Davy  found  himself  left  on  herd  alone  for  a  brief 
time,  This  he  did  not  mind.  He  felt  capable  of  han- 
dling the  herd  himself.  So  he  slowly  rode  around  and 
around,  occasionally  halting  for  a  survey  of  the  land- 
scape. 

This  week  the  herd  had  drifted  farther  than  usual 
from  the  trail  and  from  the  settlements,  to  the  very 
edge  of  the  Salt  Creek  Valley,  where  in  numerous 
pockets  amidst  low  hill  the  grass  was  still  abundant. 
Davy  never  understood  exactly  how  it  happened,  but 
all  of  a  sudden  he  missed  the  red  and  white  lame  ox. 
His  eyes  ran  rapidly  over  the  herd,  seeking  the  old 
fellow.  The  red  and  white  ox  was  a  "  marker  " ;  when 
he  was  present  then  the  chances  were  that  the  herd  was 
holding  together,  but  when  he  was  absent  then  some- 
thing must  be  done  at  once. 

Well,  he  was  absent ;  he  was  not  even  in  sight.  This 
meant  that  probably  he  had  led  off  a  dozen  or  so  fol< 

94 


DAVY  HAS  AN  ADVENTURE 

lowers.    From  his  mule  Davy  cast  keen  gaze  over  the 
herd  and  over  the  surrounding  rolling  country. 

"  Gwan !  "  he  ordered  to  his  mouse-colored  mule, 
and  striking  into  a  gallop  he  set  off  on  a  wide  circle. 

From  the  top  of  the  nearest  rise  he  saw  nothing 
moving.  But  the  top  of  the  second  gave  him  a  wide 
view — and  he  saw  something  of  much  interest.  There, 
about  half  a  mile  from  him,  and  out  in  the  open,  was 
a  line  of  moving  dots.  He  made  out  the  red  and 
white  steer — he  recognized  the  color  and  the  limp.  At 
least  a  dozen  other  cattle  were  with  him.  They  were 
strung  out  in  a  little  group ;  and  behind,  several  horse- 
men were  driving  them.  Yes,  actually  driving  them! 
Indians !  Indians  were  driving  off  a  bunch  of  strays ! 

Davy's  heart  skipped  a  beat  and  suddenly  thumped 
violently.  But  he  didn't  sit  looking  long.  Not  he.  He 
knew  what  Billy  Cody  would  do,  and  he  knew  what 
any  herder  with  spunk  would  do.  He  clapped  his  heels 
against  his  mule  and  away  he  went  straight  for  the 
Indians. 

They  might  be  Kickapoos.  Kickapoos  from  the 
reservation  frequently  visited  the  cattle  camps  to  beg 
for  food  and  clothes;  and  many  of  them  would  carry 
off  more  than  was  given  to  them.  A  sick  steer  was 
their  especial  delight.  They  picked  up  strays,  too, 
when  they  could.  So  likely  enough  these  Indians  were 
Kickapoos.  Davy  was  not  afraid  of  Kickapoos,  al- 
though, of  course,  any  Indian  might  be  surly  when  he 
had  the  advantage. 

95 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

On  galloped  Davy,  urging  his  mule.  The  Indians 
had  seen  him,  for  they  tried  to  quicken  their  pace; 
but  the  lame  steer  held  them  back.  Good  for  the  lame 
steer,  who  could  not  travel  fast!  So  Davy  rapidly 
drew  nearer. 

As  he  approached  he  made  up  his  mind  that  these 
were  not  Kickapoos.  They  wore  blankets  like  any 
Indians,  but  their  hair  was  not  worn  like  that  of  Kicka- 
poos, whose  hair  was  combed  back  smoothly.  And 
they  were  not  Osages — another  reservation  tribe  of 
Kansas.  The  hair  of  the  Osages  was  reached  like  a 
rooster's  comb.  No;  by  their  braids  and  by  the  way 
they  rode  these  were  Cheyennes  or  Sioux!  Whew! 
That  was  bad. 

They  did  not  even  glance  around  as  Davy  rode 
upon  them.  Still  at  a  gallop  he  rode  around  them,  and 
whirling  short,  bravely  throwing  up  his  hand,  halted 
squarely  in  the  path.  The  baker's  dozen  of  steers 
(there  were  thirteen  of  them)  bunched  and  stopped, 
panting.  The  Indians  stared  fixedly  at  Davy;  two  of 
them  rode  forward. 

Yes,  they  were  Cheyennes,  except  one  Sioux;  and 
the  leader  was  Tall  Bull! 

"What  are  you  doing  with  those  cattle?"  de- 
manded Davy. 

"  Go.    Our  cattle/'  grunted  Tall  Bull. 

"  They  aren't,  either,"  retorted  Davy.  "  They're 
my  cattle  from  that  herd  yonder." 

"  No,"  denied  Tall  Bull,  angrily ;  his  companion's 


DAVY  HAS  AN  ADVENTURE 

eyes  were  blazing.  Davy  felt  them,  and  the  hot  eyes 
of  the  four  other  Indians,  in  the  rear.  "  You  go. 
Our  cattle/' 

"  Where'd  you  get  them,  then  ?  "  demanded  Davy. 

"  Buy  'em.  Take  'em  an'  eat  'em.  Puckachee ! 
(Get  out!)." 

"  Puckachee  yourself,"  answered  Davy,  now 
angry.  "  You  can't  have  'em.  I  take  'em  back. 
Savvy?  They  belong  to  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell. 
See  that  brand?" 

The  two  Indians  grunted  one  to  another.  The 
Indians  behind  called  in  their  own  language. 

"  Get  out  of  the  way,"  ordered  Davy,  boldly.  "  Gee, 
Buck!  Whitey!  Gee-haw!" 

The  cattle  began  to  turn;  but  Tall  Bull  interposed 
by  reining  his  pony  and  forcing  them  around  again. 

"  No  whoa-haws ;  ours.    Buy  'em.    How  much  ?  " 

"Can't  sell  'em.  Whoa-haw  cattle.  Gee,  Buck! 
Get  out  of  the  way,  you  two." 

"  Give  one.    Give  one,  take  rest." 

"  No !  "  stormed  Davy,  stoutly.    "  None." 

The  Indians  all  were  armed  with  bows  and  arrows. 
Suddenly  the  old  Indian  with  Tall  Bull  strung  his  bow 
like  lightning,  fitted  arrow  to  string,  and  Davy  found 
the  steel  head  quivering  on  taut  string  within  six  inches 
of  his  chest.  The  black  eyes  of  the  Indian  glared  into 
his,  the  swarthy  face  was  fierce  with  a  scowl  of  hatred. 

Davy  did  not  dare  to  move;  even  if  he  had  had  a 
gun  or  pistol  he  could  not  have  used  it.     The  arrow 
7  97 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

would  have  been  through  him  before  he  could  pul! 
trigger.  There  he  must  sit,  waiting  for  the  string  to 
be  released.  His  flesh  in  front  of  the  arrow  point 
shrank  and  stung,  as  if  already  the  keen  point  had 
driven  into  it.  If  the  Indian's  finger  should  slip — ! 

Half  a  minute  passed;  it  seemed  to  Davy  like  an 
hour.  Tall  Bull  spoke  again. 

"  Two ;  give  two,"  he  urged  meaningly.  "  Take 
rest." 

Davy  shook  his  head.  He  felt  white  and  queer,  but 
his  mind  was  made  up. 

"  No/'  he  answered,  trying  to  speak  naturally,  but 
suspecting  that  his  voice  was  rather  shaky.  "  None." 

The  arrow  head  was  still  at  his  breast ;  the  Indian's 
bow  was  still  stretched  taut  until  it  quivered  with  the 
strain;  the  Indian's  eyes  glared,  his  face  scowled. 
Davy  did  not  glance  aside.  He  was  afraid  to. 

"  One,"  now  urged  Tall  Bull.  "  Boy  give  one,  or 
mebbe  boy  die  an'  lose  all." 

Davy  shook  his  head. 

"  No." 

Now  another  Indian  rode  forward.  With  the 
corner  of  his  eye  Davy  saw  that  he  was  the  Sioux. 
The  Sioux  spoke  to  the  two  Cheyennes ;  they  grunted 
answer,  and  the  bow  of  the  old  warrior  slowly  re- 
laxed, as  if  it  hated  to. 

The  Sioux  extended  his  hand  to  Davy.  He  was  a 
young  buck,  and  good  looking,  with  a  sober  cast  of 
features. 


'TWO  ;  GIVE  TWO,"  HE  URGED,  MEANINGLY.    "TAKE  REST 


DAVY  HAS  AN  ADVENTURE 

"  How,  cola?  (How  do  you  do,  friend?)"  he  said; 
and  Davy  shook  hands  with  him.  "  All  right.  Brave 
boy.  You  go.  Take  cattle.  Goodby." 

"  Goodby/'  said  Davy.  He  promptly  turned  the 
lame  steer  aside  and  the  others  followed.  He  did  not 
delay  a  moment.  Would  the  Indians  try  to  stop  him 
again?  No ;  they  let  him  work.  Driving  the  steers  he 
started  on  the  back  trail,  past  the  three  Indians  in  the 
rear.  Every  moment  he  expected  to  feel  an  arrow 
plump  into  him  between  his  shoulders ;  but  he  did  not 
even  look  around.  He  attended  to  business.  When  at 
last  he  did  look  around,  the  six  Indians  were  riding 
along  at  a  jog.  Davy  quickened  his  pace,  and  when  he 
arrived  with  his  little  bunch  at  the  herd  he  was  glad 
indeed. 

He  had  proved  his  mettle.  He  felt  that  nobody 
would  have  done  better. 


VII 

DAVY  CHANGES  JOBS 


THE  Reverend  Mr.  Baxter  came  on  herd  soon ;  and 
Davy  told  him  about  the  Indians. 

'  You  might  have  let  them  go,  Davy,"  said  Mr. 
Baxter,  "  and  nobody  would  have  blamed  you." 

"  Yes,  sir;  but  I  couldn't,"  answered  Davy. 

"  Well,"  mused  Mr.  Baxter,  gazing  at  him  with  3 
rueful  smile,  "  I  don't  believe  I  could  either.  But  lots 
of  fellows  would.  Six  armed  Indians  are  rather  many 
for  one  unarmed  boy  to  tackle.  But  right  makes 
might,  Davy." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Davy.    "  I  guess  it  does." 

Anyway,  Hank  Bassett  and  Sam  the  cook  and  the 
other  men  in  the  camp  congratulated  Davy  on  his 
spunk,  until  he  wished  that  Billy  Cody  was  there  to 
know.  But  Billy  was  out  with  the  bull  train,  and 
nobody  might  say  when  he  would  turn  up  again  at  this 
end  of  the  trail. 

"  I  guess  I'll  send  you  in  with  a  part  of  the  herd 
to-morrow,  Red,"  quoth  Hank,  as  if  that  were  a  reward 
for  Davy's  pluck.  "  How'd  you  like  to  see  Leaven- 
worth  again  ?  " 

"  First-rate,  Mr.  Bassett,"  answered  Davy. 
100 


DAVY  CHANGES 


"  You  and  the  Reverend  can  dtive 
soon  as  we  cut  'em  out  in  the  morning.  Then  you'd 
better  report  at  the  office.  I  don't  think  we'll  need  you 
out  here  till  spring." 

That  was  good  word — at  least,  the  Leavenworth 
trip  was.  Davy  felt  as  though  he  would  be  glad  to 
see  people  and  buildings  again  and  mingle  with  the 
world.  Besides,  he  would  be  paid  off  at  last,  and 
would  have  a  pocket  full  of  money  well  earned. 

"  All  right,  Davy,"  spoke  Mr.  Baxter,  with  a  grin. 
"  We'll  take  in  the  sights  and  buy  a  suit  of  clothes  to 
boot,  won't  we !  " 

Davy  nodded  happily. 

The  herd  had  drifted  near  to  the  great  trail  again, 
so  he  and  Mr.  Baxter  drove  their  bunch  along  that 
route  for  the  fort  where  they  were  to  be  delivered  to 
the  company.  Riding  behind  in  the  dust  on  one  flank 
while  Mr.  Baxter  rode  on  the  other,  Davy  felt  like  a 
veteran. 

The  fort  was  eight  miles  distant,  about  three  hours 
drive  if  they  did  not  hurry.  The  best  of  the  steers 
had  been  cut  out  from  the  main  herd,  so  that  without 
difficulty  or  pushing  the  trip  might  easily  be  made  in 
less  than  three  hours.  The  trail  was  still  lively,  with 
bull  trains  and  overlanders  making  their  best  speed 
westward,  to  cross  to  their  destination  before  the  fall 
storms  set  in. 

One  outfit,  drawing  aside  to  give  the  cattle  room, 
hailed  Davy  with  a  question.  It  was  an  emigrant  out- 

101 


BUFFALO  BIX«L  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

fit,:  of  *  3  iarm^wpgqn  covered  with  dingy  cotton-cloth 
hooct,  hauled  by  a  yoke  of  oxen.  A  woman  holding  a 
baby  peered  from  the  seat ;  a  boy  and  girl  about  Davy's 
age  trudged  alongside,  a  sallow,  whiskered  man,  walk- 
ing, drove  with  an  ox-goad,  and  a  younger  man  rode 
a  mule. 

"  How  much  further  to  the  Cherry  Creek  gold 
diggin's,  young  feller  ?  "  queried  the  whiskered  man. 

"  About  seven  hundred  miles,"  answered  Davy. 

"  When  can  we  see  the  mountings  ?  "  quavered  the 
woman,  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  goodness !  "  laughed  Davy.  "  Not  for  a  long 
time.  You've  got  to  cross  the  plains  yet." 

"  I  didn't  think  it  was  so  fur,"  she  sighed.  "  Do 
you  hear  they're  findin'  lots  of  gold  there?  " 

'  You  didn't  come  from  out  thar,  did  you?  "  asked 
the  younger  man. 

"  No,"  said  Davy.  "  We've  been  herding  in  the 
valley  here." 

"  Keep  going  and  you'll  arrive  sometime,"  called 
Mr.  Baxter.  And  he  and  Davy  passed  on. 

"  That's  pretty  tough,  Dave,"  he  spoke  across  as 
they  proceeded  in  the  one  direction  while  the  wagon 
proceeded  in  the  other.  "  Those  people  haven't  any 
more  idea  where  the  Cherry  Creek  country  is  than  these 
cattle  have;  but  there  they  go,  woman  and  baby  and 
all.  They'll  find  what  seven  hundred  miles  of  ox 
travel  means  before  they  get  through.  And  then  they're 
liable  to  be  disappointed." 

102 


DAVY  CHANGES  JOBS 

"  Don't  you  think  there's  any  gold  out  there  ?  " 
asked  Davy. 

"  Oh,  folks  have  been  panning  out  a  little  gold  for 
half  a  dozen  years,  but  it  hasn't  amounted  to  shucks. 
I'd  rather  take  my  chances  herding  cattle.  Expect 
we'll  know  more  about  it  soon  now.  A  gang  are  out 
there  from  Georgia,  who  know  how  to  mine;  and  the 
governor  sent  out  another  gang  from  Lawrence  last 
summer,  you  know,  to  locate  a  town  and  report  back." 

That  was  so.  Davy  was  familiar  with  the  name 
"  Cherry  Creek,"  which  seemed  to  be  a  new  gold  region 
lying  out  at  the  foot  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  near 
Pike's  Peak.  But,  like  Mr.  Baxter,  the  majority  of  the 
herders  and  teamsters  seemed  to  put  little  stock  in  it. 
They  were  waiting  to  "  see  color,"  as  some  of  them 
who  had  been  to  Salt  Lake  and  to  California  put  it. 

Behind,  a  little  party  of  travellers  eastward  bound 
along  the  trail  were  overtaking  the  herd.  There  were 
three  of  them  mule-back,  driving  a  couple  of  pack 
mules.  As  they  passed  on  Mr.  Baxter's  side  they 
cheered  and  waved  good-naturedly. 

"Hurrah  for  Cherry  Creek!"  they  hallooed. 
"  You're  heading  the  wrong  way,  pardner." 

"Why?" 

"  Turn  around  and  make  your  fortune.  That's 
why." 

"  Already  made  it,"  retorted  Mr.  Baxter. 

"How,  stranger?" 

103 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Herding  cattle  at  twenty-five  a  month  and  grub. 
Have  you  made  yours  ?  " 

"  Mighty  near.  We've  seen  gold.  The  Georgia 
crowd's  been  finding  it.  We're  just  back  from  the 
Cherry  Creek  diggin's.  Thar's  plenty  color  thar,  we 
tell  you." 

"  Show  me  some." 

"Hain't  got  it,  stranger.  But  it's  thar.  We're 
goin'  back  in  the  spring.  Better  join  us.  Go  out  an' 
buy  lots  in  St.  Charles  City." 

"  No,  sir.  Buy  'em  in  Auraria,  across  the  creek," 
shouted  another.  "Auraria's  booming;  St.  Charles 
won't  last." 

"  Thanks,"  laughed  Mr.  Baxter.  "  I'll  think  about 
it.  Just  now  twenty-five  dollars  in  the  pocket  seems 
better  than  nothing  in  a  hole  in  the  ground." 

"  Wall,  you'll  miss  out,"  warned  one  of  the  men 
as  the  little  party  pressed  on  in  a  great  hurry. 

Mr.  Baxter  laughed  and  bantered  all  the  way  in  to 
Leavenworth. 

"  We  want  to  see  some  of  that  gold  before  we  pack 
up  and  go  on  a  wild  goose  chase,  don't  we,  Davy?  " 
he  called.  "  And  I'd  rather  have  a  yoke  of  steers  on 
the  hoof  than  a  city  lot  on  paper." 

This  sounded  like  wisdom;  but  Davy  imagined 
what  an  effect  the  report  of  those  returned  Cherry 
Creekers  would  have  on  that  emigrant  wagon!  The 
men  and  the  woman  would  be  looking  for  the  moun- 
tains more  eagerly  than  ever. 

104 


DAVY  CHANGES  JOBS 

He  and  Mr.  Baxter  turned  the  bunch  of  cattle  over 
to  the  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell's  foreman  at  the  fort, 
where  another  bull  train  was  being  made  up,  loaded 
high  with  government  supplies  for  the  west.  Buck 
Bomer,  Billy  Cody's  wagon-master,  had  not  come  in 
yet  from  the  Laramie  trip,  and  there  was  no  news 
from  Billy  himself.  He  was  still  out.  Report  said 
that  he  had  gone  on  from  Laramie  to  another  fort,  so 
nobody  could  tell  when  he  would  be  back. 

From  the  post  Davy  and  Mr.  Baxter  rode  on  down 
to  Leavenworth  City.  Leavenworth  never  had  seemed 
so  busy.  New  buildings  had  gone  up,  the  streets  were 
crowded  with  people  and  teams,  and  the  levee  was 
lined  with  steamboats  bound  north  and  south.  But 
the  people  all  were  bound  west.  They  had  gathered 
from  every  quarter  of  the  States.  The  twang  of  the 
Yankee,  the  drawl  of  the  backwoodsman,  and  soft  slur 
of  the  Southerner  mingled  in  a  regular  hubbub. 

Mr.  Majors  was  in  his  office;  Mr.  Russell  was  out 
somewhere  on  the  trail ;  Mr.  Waddell  was  down  home 
at  Lexington,  Missouri,  visiting  his  family.  And  who 
should  be  sitting  in  a  chair  in  the  office  but  Wild  Bill 
Hickok — as  handsome  and  as  gentlemanly  as  ever. 

"  Hello,  there,"  hailed  Wild  Bill.    "  How  goes  it  ?  " 

Mr.  Baxter  nodded  cheerily  at  him. 

"  Fine,"  answered  Davy,  feeling  rather  awkward 
in  his  worn-out  old  clothes  and  his  long  hair,  but  not 
ashamed  of  what  he  had  been  doing. 

105 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  I  hear  you're  making  good,  boy,"  asserted  Wild 
Bill.  "  I  reckon  you  can  hold  your  own  as  well  as 
Billy." 

"  He  certainly  can,"  claimed  Mr.  Baxter.  "  He's 
the  hero  of  the  camp." 

"  Bassett  sent  you  in,  did  he  ? "  queried  Mr. 
Majors.  "  How  are  things  at  the  camp  ?  " 

"  Same  as  usual,  Mr.  Majors,"  answered  Mr. 
Baxter.  "  Davy's  a  hero  now,  I  suppose  you've  heard." 

Mr.  Majors  nodded  with  his  long  beard. 

"  So  they  say,"  he  replied  simply.  "  Well,  we're 
reducing  our  force  out  in  the  cattle  camps  now,  so 
you  two  needn't  go  back  this  fall.  The  cashier'll  pay 
you  off.  And — Dick,"  he  continued  to  the  cashier, 
"  give  Davy  an  order  for  a  suit  of  clothes  with  the 
company's  compliments.  Make  it  clothes,  shoes  and 
hat  complete." 

Davy  blushed  hotly,  and  didn't  know  quite  what  to 
do.  That  the  word  of  his  adventure  with  the  Indians 
had  reached  the  office  so  quickly  was  very  embarrass- 
ing. But  he  was  glad  to  get  some  clothes,  and  Mr. 
Majors  had  spoken  in  earnest,  so  it  would  have  been 
bad  taste  in  him  to  make  much  ado  about  what  he  had 
or  hadn't  done.  Mr.  Majors  wasn't  a  man  to  say  what 
he  didn't  mean,  or  to  offer  more  than  anybody  de- 
served. So  Davy  stammered  "  Thank  you,  Mr. 
Majors,"  and,  clapped  heartily  on  the  back  by  Mr. 
Baxter,  went  forward  to  the  cashier. 

"  Here  you  are,"  said  the  cashier,  shoving  out  the 

106 


DAVY  CHANGES  JOBS 

money  and  the  order.  "  What's  the  news  out  yonder  ? 
Anybody  booming  Cherry  Creek?  " 

"  Yes.  A  bunch  of  men  who  claimed  they  were 
from  there  passed  us  coming  in,"  answered  Mr.  Baxter. 
"  They  had  a  big  story  about  plenty  of  gold,  but  we 
noticed  they  didn't  show  any !  " 

"  Color  talks/'  remarked  Wild  Bill.  "  When  I  see 
color  I'm  going  out  thar  but  not  before." 

"  Yes,  we'll  all  wait  a  bit,"  commented  Mr.  Majors. 

"  Those  new  towns  out  there  will  make  more 
freight  business,  Mr.  Majors,"  said  Mr.  Baxter. 

"  Shouldn't  wonder.  We're  hauling  down  from 
Laramie  for  them  now,  and  up  from  Bent's  Fort  on 
the  Santa  Fe  trail.  There'll  have  to  be  a  new  trail 
straight  across,  eventually.  But  we've  got  about  all 
the  business  we  can  handle.  The  government  work 
alone  takes  thirty-five  hundred  wagons,  four  thousand 
men  and  over  forty  thousand  oxen.  We've  hauled 
over  sixteen  million  pounds  of  government  freight, 
most  of  it  clear  through  to  Utah." 

Nearly  four  thousand  wagons,  four  thousand  men, 
forty  thousand  bulls !  Davy  gasped.  It  certainly  was 
a  big  company,  and  he  was  proud  to  be  working  for 
Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell,  even  if  he  was  only  one 
in  the  four  thousand. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Majors,  "  I  want  to  thank  you 
two  men  for  your  faithful  service  and  if  there's  any- 
thing more  I  can  do  for  you  let  me  know.  Baxter,  I 

107 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

suppose  you  can  take  care  of  yourself  for  a  while. 
What  are  you  going  to  do,  my  boy  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Davy,  in  doubt.  "Get 
another  job,  I  guess." 

"  Save  your  money.  Don't  spend  it  foolishly.  If 
you  want  to  put  it  on  deposit  with  us  we'll  give  you  a 
receipt  for  it;  then  you'll  be  sure  of  having  it  as  you 
need  it." 

Davy  fingered  the  gold  pieces,  making  his  pocket 
warm  and  heavy.  There  were  seven  ten-dollar  pieces 
and  one  five-dollar  piece.  He  would  have  liked  to 
carry  them  all  around  for  a  time  until  he  could  show 
them  to  Billy  Cody  or  Billy's  mother.  But  Mr. 
Majors'  offer  sounded  sensible,  so  he  fished  out  the  ten- 
dollar  pieces  and  passed  them  over  to  the  cashier. 

"  I'll  keep  five  dollars,"  he  said. 

"  What  are  you  and  the  Reverend  going  to  do?  " 
queried  Wild  Bill.  "  That  is,  if  it's  any  of  my  busi- 
ness." 

"  Oh,  Davy  can  range  around  with  me  for  a  while 
till  he's  settled,"  answered  Mr.  Baxter.  "  First  thing, 
we'll  get  a  hair  cut.  I'm  going  down  to  St.  Louis  later, 
where  I've  got  some  folks." 

"  Lookee  here,  Davy,"  pursued  Wild  Bill;  "  if  you 
haven't  any  pressing  engagement  come  on  out  to  the 
Cody  ranch  with  me.  I'm  going  to  ride  over  thar  and 
the  Reverend  can  do  as  he  pleases.  The  Codys  will 
sure  be  glad  to  see  you.  Mebbe  you  can  get  a  job  for 

108 


DAVY  CHANGES  JOBS 

your  schooling  this  winter.  Thar's  a  fine  school  opened 
again  near  the  Codys,  I  hear." 

"  That's  right.  Go  to  school  while  you  can.  You'll 
never  regret  it,"  put  in  Mr.  Majors.  "  Then  when  all 
this  country's  settled  up  and  you're  among  people  who 
can  read  and  write  and  figure,  you  won't  be  ashamed. 
Besides,  you'll  command  more  wages.  The  school 
house  and  the  church  are  of  more  value  to  this  country 
than  the  ox  teams.  The  people  with  schools  and 
churches  are  here  to  stay  and  grow." 

Davy  wanted  to  see  the  Cody  family  again,  but  it 
seemed  rather  tame  to  be  going  to  school  when  he 
might  be  riding  the  plains.  He  hesitated  a  moment 
until  Mr.  Baxter  said: 

"  Billy  Cody  goes  to  school  when  he's  home.  He's 
found  out  that  a  little  education  helps  a  fellow  along. 
I  shouldn't  wonder  if  his  mother  turned  him  into 
school  again  this  winter  when  he  gets  back." 

Since  Billy  Cody  the  "  Boy  Scout "  went  to  school 
there  must  be  something  in  it  worth  while.  Davy  be- 
gan to  feel  that  maybe  he,  too,  who  was  a  kind  of  hero, 
could  afford  to  take  a  little  time  off  from  making  him- 
self famous  and  attend  to  making  himself  more  of  an 
all-round  man. 

"  All  right,"  he  said  to  Wild  Bill.  "  I'll  go  and  see, 
anyway."  He  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Baxter,  who 
promised  to  keep  track  of  him,  and  left  with  Wild  Bill. 

Mrs.  Cody  and  the  girls  and  Turk  the  dog  were 
glad  indeed  to  see  them.  Davy  must  answer  all  their 

109 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

questions  as  to  what  he  had  done  since  he  had  been 
there  last.  He  did  not  mean  to  say  anything  about  his 
adventure  with  the  Indians,  but  Wild  Bill  told  it  and 
praised  him,  and  then  there  was  more  ado. 

"  Billy'll  be  pleased  to  hear  that,"  declared  Mrs. 
Cody.  And  she  sighed.  "  I  wish  he  were  home." 

"  Have  you  heard  from  him,  Mother  Cody?"  in- 
quired Wild  Bill. 

"  He  sent  us  word  from  Fort  Laramie  that  he  was 
going  on  with  a  train  for  another  post." 

"  He  sent  us  some  money,  too,"  cried  Helen, 
proudly. 

"  Billy's  a  good  boy,  all  right,"  nodded  Wild  Bill. 

"  I  wish  he  were  home,  though,"  insisted  Mrs.  Cody, 
quietly.  "  He  ought  to  have  more  schooling.  These 
girls  will  be  far  ahead  of  him.  Lack  of  education 
will  be  a  great  handicap  to  him  after  he  gets  out  among 
cultured  people." 

"  That's  what  we've  been  telling  Davy  here,"  quoth 
Wild  Bill.  "  The  winter's  no  time  for  him  to  be  on  the 
plains,  anyway.  He'd  better  be  going  to  school  till 
things  open  up  in  the  spring.  Do  you  reckon  he  could 
get  a  place  hereabouts  where  he  could  work  for  his 
keep  while  he  went  to  school  ?  'Tisn't  a  right  place  for 
a  boy  in  Leaven  worth." 

"Why,"  mused  Mrs.  Cody,  flushing,  "we've  al- 
ways got  room  for  Davy  or  any  friend  of  Billy's  or 
yours,  Mr.  Hickok.  Of  course,  there  isn't  much  work 
for  an  extra  hand.  You  see,  when  Billy  left  he  hired 

no 


DAVY  CHANGES  JOBS 

a  man  to  tend  to  the  farm.  But  if  Davy'll  stay  he's 
welcome." 

"  Oh,  Davy'll  stay !  "  cried  the  girls,  dancing  gaily ; 
and  Turk  barked.  "  You  will  stay,  won't  you,  Davy  ? 
We'll  have  lots  of  fun." 

But  Davy  promptly  shook  his  head. 

"  I  think  you've  got  enough,"  he  said.  Mrs.  Cody 
did  not  look  at  all  strong,  and  the  girls  were  little. 
"  I  guess  I'd  rather  find  a  place  where  I  can  work 
enough  to  pay  for  my  keep." 

"  Well,"  resumed  Mrs.  Cody,  "  maybe  you  would 
feel  more  independent,  Davy,  although  you're  welcome 
to  stay  right  here  as  long  as  you  like.  But  there's  a 
new  family  on  a  claim  about  a  mile  and  a  half  over 
yonder.  The  man's  sick  and  his  wife's  doing  too  much 
work.  I  expect  they'd  be  glad  of  somebody  to  tend 
to  the  chores.  You  might  go  over  and  see." 

"  Come  ahead,  Davy,"  bade  Bill. 

"  You'll  be  back  and  have  supper  with  us  and  stay 
all  night,  won't  you  ?  "  invited  Mrs.  Cody,  quickly. 

"  We'll  get  Dave  settled  first,  thank  you,  Mother 
Cody,"  called  back  Bill.  "  Then  we'll  be  mighty  glad 
to  stop  off  if  we  come  this  way." 

"Goodby,  Dave,"  called  the  girls.  "There's  a 
splendid  school  started.  We're  all  going." 

With  Bill,  Dave  rode  to  the  settler's  house  spoken  of 
by  Mrs.  Cody.  That  was  tremendously  kind  of  Wild 
Bill,  to  go  to  so  much  trouble  for  just  a  boy;  but  Davy 

ill 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

found  out  that  this  Mr.  Hickok  was  the  kind  of  a  man 
who  would  do  anything  for  anybody  deserving  it. 

The  new  family's  name  was  Shields.  They  were 
from  Massachusetts.  Mr.  Shields  had  taken  up  a 
homestead  of  160  acres,  and  now  he  was  miserable 
with  fever  and  ague,  so  that  he  was  unable  to  work 
steadily.  He  and  Mrs.  Shields  and  the  baby  had  come 
by  railroad  to  St.  Louis  and  by  steamboat  from  St. 
Louis  to  Leavenworth.  There  they  had  loaded  their 
goods  into  a  wagon  drawn  by  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  had 
settled  on  this  claim  where  they  had  found  a  cabin 
already  standing. 

It  wasn't  much  of  a  cabin,  being  only  twelve  by 
eighteen  feet  square,  and  built  of  logs.  The  floor  was 
of  rough  boards  with  wide  cracks  between  them;  torn 
muslin  was  stretched  as  a  ceiling  to  keep  the  dirt  of 
the  sod  roof  from  sifting  down.  Over  the  walls  Mrs. 
Shields  had  pasted  newspapers,  right  side  up,  so  she 
could  read  them  sometimes  as  she  worked.  A  muslin 
curtain,  hung  on  a  wire,  divided  the  room;  behind  the 
curtain  was  a  bed,  of  poles  laid  on  notched  posts  and  a 
mattress  stuffed  with  hay.  Clothes  were  hung  on 
wooden  pegs.  On  the  other  side  of  the  curtain  was  a 
cook  stove,  and  a  table  of  rough-sawed  slabs,  and  a 
couple  of  stools. 

No,  it  wasn't  much  of  a  place  for  people  like  Mr 
and  Mrs.  Shields,  who  were  used  to  a  comfortable 
house  in  Massachusetts;  but  it  was  home. 

All  this  Davy   found  out  in  due  time,   while  he 

112 


DAVY  CHANGES  JOBS 

worked  for  his  board  and  lodging.  At  night  he  slept 
on  the  floor  by  the  stove ;  and  he  must  rise  at  daylight 
to  milk  the  cow  and  feed  the  cow  and  the  oxen  and  the 
few  chickens,  and  split  the  wood  and  bring  the  water 
from  the  well,  and  make  an  early  start  for  school, 
which  was  four  miles  away.  After  school  and  on  Sat- 
urdays he  had  other  chores  waiting,  and  drove  the 
oxen  while  Mr.  Shields  held  the  plough  to  break  the 
sod  for  the  spring  sowing. 


VIII 

THE  GOLD  FEVER 


EVEN  while  Davy  had  been  herding  a  change  had 
occurred  in  this  Salt  Creek  Valley.  The  number  of 
settlers  seemed  almost  to  have  doubled,  and  cabins  and 
houses  and  ploughed  fields  were  everywhere.  Amidst 
them  ran  the  Leaven  worth  end  of  the  great  Overland 
Trail.  Until  after  the  first  snows  the  emigrants  and 
settlers  toiled  along  it,  down  the  hill  into  the  valley 
and  up  the  hill  out  of  the  valley;  and  all  winter  the  bull 
trains  plodded  back  and  forth.  Weather  rarely  stopped 
the  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  outfits. 

Mr.  DeVinne  was  the  teacher  in  the  school.  It 
was  the  best  school  yet,  according  to  the  Cody  girls, 
because  there  were  more  pupils,  and  Mr.  DeVinne 
seemed  to  know  how  to  teach.  Of  course  the  school 
was  not  graded;  it  consisted  of  only  one  room,  where 
the  boys  and  girls  sat  on  long  benches,  with  other 
benches  for  desks.  The  scholars  ranged  from  little 
Eliza  Cody,  who  was  six,  up  to  big  boys  of  twenty. 
The  pupils  had  come  from  all  over — from  Missouri. 
Illinois,  Vermont,  Carolina,  Mississippi,  and  the  other 
States  east  and  south.  Davy,  who  had  been  herding 

ill 


THE  GOLD  FEVER 

for  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell,  and  had  proved  his 
pluck,  felt  as  big  as  any  of  them. 

Steve  Gobel,  who  tried  to  be  a  kind  of  boss  (when 
Billy  Cody  wasn't  there),  started  in  to  tease  Davy,  who 
was  little  and  red-headed.  Davy  stood  the  teasing  as 
long  as  he  could ;  but  when  Steve  grabbed  his  hair  and 
pulled,  saying :  "  Here,  Red !  Lemme  warm  my 
fingers,"  Davy  flared  up.  He  would  have  fought  Steve 
then  and  there,  but  another  boy  sprang  between  them. 

"  You'd  better  let  him  alone,  Steve  Gobel,  or  Billy 
Cody'll  give  you  another  licking." 

"  Yes,  he  will !  "  cried  Helen  Cody  and  all  the  girls. 
"  He's  coming  back  pretty  soon  now." 

"  Aw,  he  never  licked  me.  He  ain't  big  enough," 
snarled  Steve. 

"  Well,  he's  man  enough,  whether  he's  big  enough 
or  not,"  retorted  the  boys.  And 

"  He  did,  too,  lick  you.  And  he'll  do  it  again  as 
soon  as  he  gets  home,"  called  the  Cody  girls,  loyally. 

Steve  growled,  but  he  strolled  off  and  after  that  he 
let  Davy  pretty  much  alone.  Davy  learned  that  Steve 
had  bullied  Billy  Cody,  too — until  in  a  fight  Billy  had 
been  made  mad  enough  to  hurt  him.  Billy  was  the 
school's  hero,  for  he  was  out  on  the  plains  doing  a 
man's  work  and  helping  to  support  his  mother  and 
sisters.  Everybody  liked  Billy  if  they  knew  him,  or 
they  wanted  to  see  him  if  they  didn't  know  him. 

The  cold,  snowy  winter  of  Kansas  and  a  new  West 
set  in.  The  days  and  nights  were  below  zero,  bliz- 

115 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TEAJLL 

zards  of  wind  and  snow  swept  through  plains  and 
valleys ;  and  in  the  frontier  cabins  the  settlers  schemed 
hard  to  keep  warm.  His  chores  at  the  Shields  cabin 
and  his  trips  to  school  and  back  kept  Davy  busy ;  but  he 
must  make  the  best  of  his  school  term,  for  when  winter 
quit  school  would  quit  too.  Once  in  a  while  he  stopped 
in  at  the  Cody  home;  Mrs.  Cody  was  putting  up  a  large 
house  as  a  hotel  and  eating  place  for  the  overland 
travellers,  particularly  the  teamsters  of  the  wagon 
trains.  The  girls  named  it "  The  Valley  Grove  House." 

Then,  in  February,  who  should  appear  at  school  but 
Billy  himself. 

"  Hurrah !    There's  Billy  Cody !  " 

"Hello,  Red!" 

"  Hello,  Billy." 

"  When  did  you  get  back,  Billy?  "  asked  everybody. 

"  Yesterday." 

"  Where've  you  been  this  time  ?  " 

"  Out  to  Laramie  and  Fort  Walbach  at  Cheyenne 
Pass.  Been  trapping  on  the  Chugwater,  south  oi  Lara- 
mie, too." 

"  How'd  you  come  back  ?    With  a  bull  train  ?  " 

"  Nope.  A  couple  of  fellows  and  I  started  with 
our  own  pack  outfit,  but  the  Injuns  jumped  us  on  the 
Little  Blue,  and  we  ran  into  snow,  and  we  mighty  nigh 
never  got  through." 

'*What  you  going  to  do  now,  Billy?  " 

"  Going  to  school  a  while,  I  reckon." 

And  so  he  did.    He  also  told  Davy  his  adventures 
116 


THE  GOLD  FEVER 

He  had  been  assistant  wagon  master  with  Buck  Bomer 
from  Leavenworth  northwest  to  Fort  Laramie,  and 
from  Laramie  south  sixty  miles  to  new  Fort  Walbach. 
After  that  he  had  gone  trapping,  but  hadn't  caught 
much.  In  December  he  had  started  home  mule-back 
with  two  other  "  men."  The  Indians  had  chased  them 
in  central  Kansas,  and  they  had  tried  to  sleep  in  a 
cave  until  they  found  that  it  was  strewn  with  skele- 
tons; and  a  snowstorm  had  buffeted  them,  but  at  last 
they  had  reached  Leavenworth. 

This  seemed  considerable  for  a  boy  of  fourteen  to 
have  done.  Billy  brought  home  his  wages,  as  usual, 
for  his  mother,  and  now  he  settled  down  to  school 
again.  Davy  was  very  glad  to  have  him  back. 

Once  in  a  while  he  and  Billy  rode  into  Leaven- 
worth on  errands.  As  the  winter  wore  away  rumors  of 
the  Pike's  Peak  region  and  the  Cherry  Creek  gold 
diggings  in  it  grew  more  and  more  numerous.  A  few 
travellers  from  that  western  border  of  Kansas  (for 
Kansas  Territory  extended  clear  to  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains) arrived  in  Leavenworth  and  declared  that  things 
out  in  the  Pike's  Peak  region  were  booming.  Two 
towns,  Auraria  and  Denver,  had  been  founded  on 
Cherry  Creek;  and  from  the  sands  gold  was  being 
washed  out.  It  was  claimed  that  the  mines  would  equal 
those  of  California — and  they  were  much  nearer  to 
the  States. 

Soon  after  Billy  had  come  home  he  and  Davy  met 
U7 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Mr.  Baxter  on  the  street  in  Leavenworth.  Mr.  Baxter 
looked  fine,  and  shook  hands  heartily  with  them. 

"  What  are  you  doing  for  yourselves?  "  he  asked. 

"  Going  to  school.    What  are  you  doing?  " 

"  Oh,  visiting  'round,  waiting  for  the  trail  to  open." 

"  The  green  grass  will  sure  look  good/'  quoth  Billy, 
wisely.  "  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Reverend?  Bull 
whack?" 

"  No.  I  think  I'll  strike  out  for  the  new  Cherry 
Creek  diggings." 

"  Thought  you  didn't  count  much  on  those  stories," 
reminded  Davy. 

"  I  didn't,  but  I  do  now.  Just  got  back  from 
Omaha.  Boys,  I  saw  six  quills  full  of  gold  there  from 
the  Pike's  Peak  country.  Everybody  up  at  Omaha  is 
wild  about  it.  They're  all  going.  The  newspapers 
from  my  home  town  in  Massachusetts  are  full  of  gold 
stories.  The  whole  East  is  excited.  By  spring  you'll 
see  the  biggest  crowd  starting  on  the  Overland  Trail 
since  the  days  of  Forty-nine  and  the  California  boom. 
Leavenworth  won't  be  big  enough  to  hold  the  people 
outfitting  here." 

"Hurrah  for  Cherry  Creek,  then!"  cried  Billy. 
"  Reckon  we'll  have  to  go,  Davy !  " 

"  I'll  go,"  agreed  Davy  eagerly. 

"  We'll  all  go,"  said  Mr.  Baxter.     "  Everybody'l! 

go." 

A  lean,  sallow,  unshaven  man  in  jeans  and  flannel 
shirt  and  boots  and  a  huge  muffler  around  his  neck  and 

118 


THE  GOLD  FEVER 

a  round  fur  cap  on  his  head  had  been  standing  near. 
He  nodded. 

"  Right  you  are,  pards,"  he  put  in.  "  That's  the 
place." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  queried  Billy,  quickly. 

"I've  been  thar,  an'  now  I've  come  back  to  tell  my 
friends.  Why,  boys,  out  thar  all  you've  got  to  do  is 
to  pull  up  the  grass  by  the  roots  an'  shake  out  the  gold. 
Pike's  Peak  is  solid  gold,  'most.  A  feller  can  make  a 
flat-bottom  boat  an'  set  knives  in  the  hull  an'  slide 
down,  scraping  up  the  gold  in  slivers. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  that  done? "  demanded  Mr. 
Baxter. 

"  Not  exac'ly,  stranger.    But  I'm  goin'  to  do  it" 

That  sounded  like  a  tall  story — although  of  course 
it  might  be  true.  Billy  and  Mr.  Baxter  put  small  stock 
in  the  tale;  but  it  filled  Davy's  mind  with  delightful 
visions.  He  dreamed  of  taking  a  plough  up  Pike's 
Peak  and  ploughing  golden  furrows  clear  to  the 
bottom. 

Suddenly  Salt  Creek  Valley  and  all  the  frontier 
along  the  Missouri  River  from  St.  Louis  up  to  Omaha 
was  excited.  The  Leavenworth  papers  printed  wonder- 
ful stories  of  the  new  gold  fields,  where  miners  were 
washing  out  the  precious  metal.  The  Georgia  party 
of  miners,  some  of  whom  were  Cherokee  Indians, 
which  had  outfitted  at  Leavenworth  last  fall  and  had 
gone  out  by  the  southwest  Santa  Fe  Trail  to  the  moun- 
tains and  thence  north  to  Cherry  Creek,  had  "  struck  it 

119 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

rich,"  and  had  sent  back  the  quills  of  gold  to  prove  it. 
Already  emigrants  from  the  East  were  arriving  in 
Leavenworth,  wild  to  push  on  as  soon  as  the  spring 
opened.  Between  themselves  Billy  and  Dave  deter- 
mined to  join  the  crowd.  It  was  all  they  could  do  to 
wait. 

One  day  early  in  March  Davy  was  making  a  brief 
call  at  the  Cody  house,  when  Billy  excitedly  pointed 
from  the  front  porch. 

"  There's  the  first  one !  "  he  cried.  "  There's  the 
first  prairie  schooner  bound  for  the  diggings!  Let's 
go  down  and  meet  it ! " 

Away  he  rushed;  Davy  followed,  and  so  did  the 
girls.  Mrs.  Cody  stood  shading  her  eyes,  watching. 
Across  the  valley  crept  a  white-topped  wagon  drawn 
by  two  yoke  of  oxen.  Beside  the  wagon  was  trudging 
a  man,  and  behind  followed  another  man  pushing  a 
two-wheeled  cart.  When  Billy  and  Dave  met  the  out- 
fit they  saw  that  two  women  were  in  the  big  wagon; 
one  held  a  baby;  on  the  other  side  of  the  wagon  were 
sturdily  trudging  a  boy  and  girl.  A  big  shaggy  dog 
barked  at  Turk,  and  Turk  growled  back. 

The  wagon  was  a  farm  wagon  covered  with  the 
cotton  hood  and  stuffed  with  household  goods.  On 
the  sides  the  hood  bore,  in  scrawly  black  paint : 
"  PIKE'S  PEAK  OR  BUST." 

"  Hello !  "  hailed  Billy.    "  Where  you  bound  ?  " 

"  To  the  new  diggin's,  stranger,"  responded  the 
driver  of  the  oxen.  "  See  our  sign?  " 

120 


THE  GOLD  FEVER 

"  Do  you  live  hyar'bouts  ?  "  asked  the  man  who 
was  pushing  the  hand-cart — which  also  was  loaded 
with  household  s*"J¥  and  camp  stuff.  The  ox-team 
paused ;  the  man  pushing  the  hand-cart  wiped  his  fore- 
head with  a  red  handkerchief. 

"  Yes ;  we  live  up  yonder  near  the  top  of  the  hill." 

"  How  long  do  you  reckon  it'll  take  us  to  get  to 
Cherry  Creek?  "  pursued  the  ox-team  driver. 

"  Two  months  if  you  keep  going,"  said  Billy. 

"  'Twon't  take  as  long  as  that,  stranger,"  replied 
the  man.  "  We  can  travel  right  smart." 

"  They  do  say  you  can  dig  out  the  gold  with  a 
shovel,"  quavered  the  \  oman.  "  We  hear  tell  you  can 
dig  out  a  pound  a  day.  Were  you  ever  there?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Billy.  "  But  we're  going.  Aren't 
you  a  little  early?  " 

"  Wall,  we  reckoned  we'd  start  'arly,  an*  make  our 
pile  'fore  the  other  folks  got  thar,"  explained  the 
driver.  "  Thar's  a  tarnel  lot  o'  people  gathered  behind 
us,  an'  those  that  come  later  won't  find  'nough  grass  for 
their  critters.  Gee-up,  Buck !  Spot !  Get  along  with 
you." 

Creaking,  the  wagon  resumed  its  way.  The  man 
with  the  hand-cart  pushed  in  the  wake.  The  mud  was 
ankle  deep,  and  Dave  felt  sorry  for  the  whole  outfit. 

"  Better  stop  on  tlie  hill  and  rest,"  bade  Billy. 
"  Guess  we  can  give  you  some  coffee." 

"  Nope,    thank    ye,    stranger,"    said    the    driver. 

121 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TBAIL 

"  We're  goin'  on  through."  And  he  swung  his  whip, 
urging  his  oxen. 

Billy  and  Dave  and  the  girls  raced  ahead;  and 
when  the  wagon  and  the  hand-ca^  with  the  oxen  and 
men  alike  panting,  toiled  up  hill  near  the  Cody  house 
Mrs.  Cody  rushed  out  with  a  pail  of  hot  coffee.  But 
the  emigrants  scarcely  halted  to  drink  it.  Even  the 
women  were  anxious  to  proceed,  as  if  already  they  saw 
the  gold. 

"  Poor  things,"  sighed  fl  Irs.  Cody,  while  the  girls 
waved  goodby  to  the  two  children.  "  They'll  have  a 
hard  time." 

But  Billy  and  Dave  watched  until  the  "  Pike's 
Peak  or  Bust "  sign  was  only  a  blur,  and  the  wagon  a 
crawling  dot. 

"  Shucks !  "  said  Billy.  "  If  it  wasn't  for  mother 
and  school  I'd  join  'em.  But  I  wouldn't  go  by  the 
regular  Overland  Trail.  When  we  go  we'll  take  the 
Smoky  Hill  trail,  Dave;  up  the  Kansas  River,  to  Fort 
Riley,  and  on  out  by  the  Smoky  Hill  branch  or  the 
Republican.  That's  shorter." 

This  "  Pike's  Peak  or  Bust "  outfit  was  only  the 
first  of  a  long  series  of  gold-field  "  pilgrims  "  (as  they 
were  called),  all  enthusiastic.  And  soon  Leavenworth 
City  was  a  sight!  As  Mr.  Baxter  had  predicted,  the 
city  was  scarcely  large  enough  to  hold  the  new-comers. 
Two  and  three  steamboats  a  day  arrived,  loaded  to  the 
gunwales,  at  the  levee,  bringing  up  from  St.  Louis  and 

122 


THE  GOLD  FEVER 

Kansas  City  Eastern  and  Southern  people,  their  teams 
and  goods. 

The  streets  were  thronged  with  the  strangers,  young 
and  old,  in  all  kinds  of  costumes  and  of  all  professions 
— farmers,  lawyers,  ministers,  doctors,  merchants, 
teachers — buying  supplies  and  exchanging  opinions. 
The  lodging  houses  and  hotels  and  spare  rooms  were 
overflowing,  and  around  the  city  and  in  the  vacant  lots 
were  hundreds  of  tents,  where  were  camped  overland 
parties  of  men  and  whole  families. 

A  constant  procession  of  "  pilgrims  "  wended  slow 
way  through  the  Salt  Creek  Valley,  past  the  Cody 
home  and  the  Shields  home,  and  northwestward  to  the 
main  Salt  Lake  Overland  Trail  which  led  up  the  Platte 
River;  at  the  South  Platte  they  might  branch  for  the 
"  diggings  "  by  a  cut-off.  Many  of  the  wagon  hoods 
bore  that  queer  legend  "  Pike's  Peak  or  Bust !  "  Some 
men  trundled  wheel-barrows,  loaded,  and  a  few  were 
trying  to  carry  packs  through  on  their  backs. 

But  the  greatest  procession  went  out  over  the  new 
route  from  Leavenworth  southwest  to  the  Kansas 
River ;  thence  on  to  Fort  Riley  at  the  forks,  and  either 
northwest  up  the  P  ^publican  branch  or  west  up  the 
Smoky  Hill  River  branch.  Still  other  people  travelled 
by  the  Santa  Fe  Trail— the  southernmost  trail  of  all — 
up  the  Arkansas  River  to  the  mountains,  and  then 
north  along  the  base  of  the  mountains  past  Pike's  Peak 
itself  to  Cherry  Creek  and  Denver. 

Mr.  Russell,  of  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell,  and 

123 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Mr.  John  S.  Jones  put  in  a  stage  line  to  Denver  by  the 
Smoky  Hill  route.  It  was  called  the  "  Leavenworth  & 
Pike's  Peak  Express  Company,"  Jones  &  Russell,  Pro- 
prietors. Two  stages,  travelling  together  for  protection 
against  the  Indians,  each  drawn  by  four  fine  Kentucky 
mules  and  carrying  six  passengers,  left  Leavenworth 
every  morning  for  Denver,  and  covered  the  700  roll- 
ing miles  in  ten  days.  Soon  the  return  stages  would 
be  arriving,  and  everybody  was  expecting  great  news. 
It  was  calculated  that  already  25,000  people  had  started 
for  the  diggings.  The  trails  were  said  to  be  white  with 
the  wagons  and  the  carrps. 

The  streets  and  the  levee  of  Leavenworth  were  so 
full  of  fascinating  sights  that  Davy  took  every  moment 
he  could  spare  from  chores  and  school  to  go  in  with 
Billy  and  look  and  listen.  The  best  place  was  in  front 
of  the  Planters'  House  Hotel,  across  the  street  from 
the  office  of  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell.  Here  the 
stages  started,  and  here  people  gathered  to  bid  one 
another  goodby.  The  conversation  was  most  inter- 
esting, as  people  on  the  ground  called  up  to  passengers 
in  the  stages. 

"  Send  us  back  a  sack  of  go1/\  John/' 

"  Hold  tight  to  your  scalps,  boys." 

"  Let  us  know  how  things  are.    Be  sure  and  write/' 

"  Kill  a  buffalo  for  me,  Frank.  I  want  a  good  big 
hide,  remember." 

"  Leave  a  message  for  me  on  the  top  of  Pike's 
Peak." 

124 


THE  GOLD  F2VER 

"  Look  out  for  the  '  Rapahoes.'  " 

"  Goodby,  goodby,  old  fellow." 

"  Don't  forget  to  give  Robinson  that  package  from 
his  wife/' 

"  Most  of  these  people  don't  know  where  they're 
going  or  why,"  remarked  a  man  near  .Davy,  to  another 
man.  "  There'll  be  much  suffering  from  this  mad 
rush." 

He  was  a  tall,  slender,  erect  man  of  about  thirty- 
five,  with  long  bronzed,  florid  face,  sandy  complexion 
and  crisp,  sandy  beard. 

"  That's  Lieutenant  William  T.  Sherman,  formerly 
of  the  Army.  He's  practising  law  here  now  with  Judge 
Ewing,"  said  another  man,  aside,  to  a  companion.  In 
a  few  more  years  he  would  be  the  famous  "  General 
Sherman." 

Billy  Cody,  too,  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  green- 
horns on  the  trail  would  meet  with  trouble;  and  in 
Davy's  opinion  Billy  ought  to  know.  Already  reports 
were  to  the  effect  that  the  route  up  the  Smoky  Hill  and 
the  Republican  were  short  of  grass  and  exposed  to  the 
Indians,  and  that  the  emigrants  were  being  compelled 
to  throw  away  much  of  their  baggage. 

However,  this  did  not  stop  anybody  from  starting. 
Davy  and  Billy  had  the  gold  fever  bad.  Even  Mr. 
Shields  had  decided  to  take  his  wife  and  baby  and  leave 
the  ranch  for  the  diggings,  where  he  counted  on  making 
more  money  in  a  week  than  he  could  make  here  in  a 
year.  So  Davy  only  waited  on  Billy,  to  start,  himself. 

125 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Shucks !  "  exclaimed  Billy,  in  May.  "  I've  got  to 
quit,  Dave,  and  go  on  the  trail  again.  Mother  said 
last  night '  All  right/  She'll  let  me  go.  She  needs  the 
money  and  I'll  send  her  back  a  lot.  Come  on.  We'll 
raise  a  gang  and  start." 

"When,  Billy?" 

"  Right  away,  as  soon  as  we  get  the  men  and  the 
outfit.  This  green  grass  makes  me  restless.  Got  any 
money  left,  Dave?  We  have  to  buy  a  wagon  and 
team." 

Yes,  Davy  had  almost  all  his  herding  wages  on  de- 
posit with  Mr.  Majors.  He  was  proud  to  say  so,  and 
to  be  able  to  pay  his  own  way. 


IX 

THE  HEE-HAW  EXPRESS 


Now  Billy  wasted  no  time  with  the  preparations. 
That  was  his  style.  The  Reverend  Mr.  Baxter,  who 
had  been  ill  in  Leavenworth,  and  so  had  not  started 
before,  promptly  agreed  to  join  the  party.  He  and 
Billy  and  Dave  clubbed  together  with  an  outfit  that 
Billy  knew.  These  were  Jim  Barber  and  Hi  Wilson 
and  another  man  called  "  Left-over  Joe."  Jim  and  Hi 
had  been  teamsters  with  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell 
bull  trains;  but  "  Left-over  Joe  "  seemed  to  be  nobody 
in  particular — and  that  is  why  they  nicknamed  him 
"  Left-over  Joe/' 

A  big  emigrant  outfitting  camp  had  been  estab- 
lished in  the  Salt  Creek  Valley  near  the  Cody  home, 
and  while  Jim  and  Hi  were  here  getting  ready  to  move 
on,  this  lean,  lank,  very  long-necked  hobbledehoy  of 
squeaky  voice  and  nineteen  or  twenty  years  had  wan- 
dered into  their  camp  and  adopted  them.  So  they  let 
him  stay. 

Jim  and  Hi  had  a  team  of  mules;  Billy  and  Dave 
and  Mr.  Baxter  added  an  old  light  wagon.  The  party 
thought  themselves  lucky,  for  oxen  had  risen  in  price 

127 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

to  $175  and  $200  a  yoke,  and  mules  and  horses  were 
scarcer  yet.  Wagons  were  scarce,  too. 

By  the  time  that  the  supplies  of  salty  pork  and  beans 
and  flour  and  coffee  had  been  laid  in  for  "  grub,"  and 
picks  and  spades  and  gold-pans  for  digging  out  the 
gold  and  separating  it,  and  ammunition  for  killing 
game  and  fighting  Indians,  Davy's  money  was  about 
gone.  However,  that  did  not  matter.  They  all  would 
find  gold  enough  to  last  them  the  rest  of  their  lives ! 

Billy  owned  the  Mississippi  "  yager  "  smoothbore 
musket  and  the  two  Colt's  navy  revolvers  that  he  had 
used  when  in  the  mule  fort.  He  gave  Davy  one  of  the 
revolvers.  With  it  belted  at  his  waist,  Davy  felt  like  a 
regular  scout  indeed.  Hi  and  Jim  also  owned  guns. 
Hi's  was  a  yager  similar  to  Billy's.  Jin/s  was  a  heavy 
Sharp's  "  Old  Reliable  "  rifle,  of  fifty  calibrt  holding 
six  cartridges  underneath,  and  one  in  the  breech.  It 
was  a  tremendously  hard-shooting  gun.  Whoever  had 
a  Sharp's  "  Old  Reliable  "  had  the  best  gun  on  the 
plains. 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Baxter  had  no  gun  at  all  and  did 
not  want  one,  he  claimed.  "  Left-over  Joe  "  had  no 
gun  at  all,  but  wanted  one  badly.  Hi  promised  to  let 
him  shoot  the  yager  sometime. 

The  Salt  Creek  camp  was  a  lively  place.  Here 
were  assembled  a  thousand  emigrants,  all  "  Pike's 
Peakers,"  making  ready  to  travel  on  westward  and  find 
their  fortunes.  About  every  kind  of  an  outfit  was  to  be 
seen,  and  all  sorts  of  people.  Many  of  the  men  never 

128 


THE  HEE-HAW  EXPRESS 

had  driven  oxen  or  mules  before;  they  had  bought 
what  they  could  get;  some  of  the  animals  proved  not 
to  be  broken  to  drive,  and  when  the  green-horns  tried 
to  hitch  up  the  green  "  critters  "  then  there  was  fun  for 
the  onlookers. 

However,  nobody  was  delaying  to  watch  the 
"  fun/'  By  the  hundred,  parties  were  setting  out  every 
day  from  the  camp  as  well  as  from  Leavenworth. 
Thousands  of  gold-seekers  already  had  left  Omaha 
and  Kansas  City  and  St.  Joseph.  It  was  reported  that 
along  any  of  the  trails  a  person  could  walk  from  the 
Missouri  River  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  on  the  tops 
of  the  prairie  schooners — so  thick  was  the  travel.  It 
beat  the  celebrated  stampede  to  California  in  1849. 

There  were  four  trails  to  the  "  diggings."  The  two 
best  known  were  the  Santa  Fe  Trail,  on  the  south, 
which  followed  up  the  Arkansas  River  in  southern 
Kansas,  to  the  mountains,  and  then  turned  north  for 
the  gold  fields ;  and  the  big  Salt  Lake  Overland  Trail, 
on  the  north,  which  from  the  Missouri  River  followed 
up  the  Platte  River,  until  in  western  Nebraska  the  gold 
hunters  turned  south  for  Pike's  Peak.  Omaha  and  St. 
Joseph  were  the  outfitting  points  for  this  northern 
trail,  and  Leavenworth  traffic  struck  it  by  the  govern- 
ment road  which  ran  through  Salt  Creek  Valley  on 
into  the  northwest.  The  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell 
"  bull  trains  "  hauled  their  freight  over  this  route. 

The  other  two  trails  were  new  central  trails,  made 
especially  for  the  Pike's  Peak  rush.  One  trail  fol- 
9  129 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

lowed  up  the  Republican  River  through  southern 
Nebraska ;  the  other  followed  up  along  the  Smoky  Hill 
Fork  River,  through  central  Kansas.  Emigrants 
coming  in  by  St.  Joseph  were  taking  either  the  Salt 
Lake  and  California  Overland  route  or  the  Republican 
route ;  the  emigrants  outfitting  at  Leavenworth  and  the 
Salt  Creek  Valley  were  taking  the  Smoky  Hill  route 
or  else  the  Overland  Trail  route. 

By  the  Overland  Trail  (the  Salt  Lake  and  Cali- 
fornia Trail)  it  was  accounted  580  miles  from  Omaha 
to  the  diggin's ;  and  the  Pike's  Peak  Guide-book  recom- 
mended that  trail.  But  from  Leavenworth  it  was  100 
miles  further,  and  the  Smoky  Hill  Trail  was  said  to  be 
the  straightest  and  the  shortest.  The  Leavenworth  & 
Pike's  Peak  Express  Company  stages  had  chosen  that 
route. 

"  I  reckon  that's  the  route  for  us/'  said  Hi.  "  I 
hear  we  can  follow  the  Smoky  clear  to  the  mountains, 
and  have  water  all  the  way." 

"  When  the  first  stage  comes  back  we'll  know  more 
about  it,  but  we  can't  wait,"  mused  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Baxter. 

"Oh,  we'll  get  through,"  spoke  Billy,  quickly. 
"  And  the  sooner  we  start  the  better,  before  all  the 
grass  and  fuel  are  used  up.  Look  at  the  people,  will 
you,  pulling  out  every  day !  " 

"  Do  you  think  one  wagon  will  be  enough  to  bring 
back  our  gold?"  squeaked  Left-over,  anxiously.  "I 

180 


THE  HEE-HAW  EXPRESS 

don't  want  to  quit  till  I  get  a  million  dollars'  worth  for 
myself  alone/' 

"  Then  what'll  you  do,  Left-over?  "  asked  Jim,  with 
a  wink  at  the  rest. 

Left-over  Joe  scratched  his  long  freckled  neck  and 
looked  like  a  chicken. 

"  I'd  buy  a  gun  and  have  all  the  pie  I  wanted,  too," 
he  declared  foolishly. 

Now  everything  had  been  made  ready.  The  night 
before  the  start  Billy  and  Dave  spent  in  camp  with 
the  rest  of  the  party.  Mr.  Shields  and  family  had  gone ; 
their  log  cabin  was  empty,  their  claim  abandoned  again. 
If  they  had  stayed  they  could  have  made  lots  of  money 
selling  produce  to  the  emigrants;  but  they,  like  the 
thousands  of  others,  wished  to  get  rich  quick. 

This  last  evening  in  the  Salt  Creek  emigrant  camp 
the  party  elected  their  officers.  Hi  was  chosen  captain 
or  wagon-master,  Billy  was  chosen  lieutenant  or  assist- 
ant, Mr.  Baxter  volunteered  to  cook,  and  "  Left-over  " 
was  appointed  "  cavarango  "  or  herder  of  the  two 
mules.  This  left  Jim  and  Davy  for  the  general  work 
of  march  and  camp. 

With  the  provisions  and  bedding  and  mining  tools 
and  other  stuff  the  wagon  was  well  loaded  for  two 
mules  to  haul  across  the  plains ;  so  it  was  decided  that 
all  the  party  except  the  driver  must  walk.  They  would 
take  turns  driving  and  riding;  and  after  the  mules 
were  well  broken  in  and  the  trail  was  rougher  then 
probably  nobody  would  ride. 

131 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  I  reckon  we  ought  to  make  twenty  miles  a  day, 
with  mules/'  quoth  Billy,  wisely.  "  But  those  oxen  the 
other  folks  are  using  won't  make  more  than  twelve  or 
fifteen  miles  a  day.  Some  of  'em  are  liable  to  be  sixty 
days  on  the  road." 

"  Well,  we'll  be  lucky  if  we  get  through  in  thirty," 
said  Mr.  Baxter.  "  It  will  be  nearer  forty." 

"  Do  we  have  to  walk  forty  days  ?  "  squealed  "  Left- 
over." 

"  That's  nothing  to  a  bull  whacker,"  said  Hi, 
gruffly.  "  I've  walked  clean  from  Leavenworth  to 
Salt  Lake  and  back  again." 

"  So  have  I,"  nodded  Jim.  "  That's  twelve  hun- 
dred miles  each  way — and  most  of  it  up-hill,  too !  " 

The  Smoky  Hill  Fork  trail  was  to  be  struck  at 
Fort  Riley,  132  miles  southwest  from  Leavenworth. 
Here  the  Smoky  Hill  Fork  and  the  Republican  Rivers 
joined  to  form  the  Kaw  or  Kansas  River.  Settle- 
ments extended  to  Fort  Riley  and  a  short  distance 
beyond ;  but  after  that  the  country  was  the  "  Indian 
Country." 

"  Lookee  here,"  suddenly  exclaimed  Billy  Cody,  that 
last  night  before  the  start,  when  everybody  was  under 
blankets  and  almost  asleep.  "  We've  got  to  have  a 
name  painted  on  our  wagon." 

"  Can't  we  travel  anonymous  ?  "  queried  the  Rev- 
erend Mr.  Baxter,  sleepily. 

"  I  dunno  what  that  means  but  it  sounds  pretty 
good,"  spoke  Hi.  "  Can  you  spell  it?  " 

18£ 


THE  HEE-HAW  EXPRESS 

"  Oh,"  chuckled  Mr.  Baxter,  "  that  doesn't  mean 
anything." 

"  Huh !  "  grumbled  Hi.  "  I  thought  it  was  an  ani- 
mile  like  a  hippopotamus,  mebbe." 

When  the  camp  turned  out  at  sunrise  Billy  had  al- 
ready been  up,  and  on  the  wagon  hood  he  had  painted, 
with  the  stick  and  tar-pot  used  for  greasing  the  wagon, 
the  title:  "HEE-HAW  EXPRESS."  So,  amidst 
laughter,  the  Hee-Haw  Express  it  was  which,  soon 
after  sun-up,  joined  the  procession  that,  anew  each 
day,  filed  out  for  the  long  trail  to  Pike's  Peak. 

The  Hee-Haw  Express,  being  mule-power,  tra- 
velled faster  than  many  of  the  other  outfits.  The  road 
certainly  presented  a  series  of  strange  sights,  as  if 
everybody  had  thrown  together  whatever  he  could 
and  was  hastening  from  a  fire  or  a  plague.  The  Hee- 
Haw  Express,  at  amble  and  fast  walk,  with  Hi  driving 
and  his  partners  trudging  as  fast  as  they  were  able 
beside,  gradually  passed  men  with  packs,  men  pushing 
handcarts  and  wheel-barrows,  crippled  ox  teams,  next 
an  ox  and  a  cow  harnessed  together,  next  a  mule  and 
an  ox  harnessed  together;  and  so  forth  and  so  forth, 
all  in  the  dust  and  the  shouting  and  the  rumbling  and 
creaking  and  whip  cracking. 

Almost  all  the  other  "  Pike's  Peak  pilgrims  "  passed 
by  the  Hee-Haw  Express  waved  and  shouted  their 
greetings. 

"  Trade  you  my  wheel-barrow  for  a  mule." 
'  You  must  be  in  a  rush,  strangers." 

133 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"What's  the  fare?" 

To  this  Billy  answered  gaily: 

"  Regular  stage  rates.  Twenty-five  cents  a  mile  or 
hundred  dollars  to  the  mountains." 

For  that  was  what  the  Leavenworth  &  Pike's  Peak 
Express  Company  charged. 

Many  of  the  other  wagons  also  bore  signs.  "  Pike's 
Peak  or  Bust!"  "Noah's  Ark!"  "Root  Hog  or 
Die!"  "Pike's  Peak  Special!"  "Bound  For  the 
Diggings!  " — thus  ran  some  of  the  lines  to  be  noted  as 
the  Hee-Haw  Express  sturdily  pressed  forward. 

That  night  the  road  was  one  continuous  camp,  with 
fires  glowing  and  canvas  glimmering  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  see  in  either  direction.  Parties  visited  back  and 
forth,  men  and  women  exchanged  news  and  views, 
children  played  in  the  firelight  shadows,  babies  cried, 
dogs  barked,  and  not  until  after  nine  o'clock  was  the 
trail  quiet  enough  so  that  nervous  persons  might  sleep. 
However,  Davy  was  not  nervous ;  and  from  the  snores 
he  might  judge  that  Billy  and  the  rest  were  not  nervous 
either. 

The  next  day  the  Hee-Haw  Express  started  early, 
and  was  on  the  road  even  before  sun-up.  Billy  and 
Hi  and  all  were  anxious  to  pass  Fort  Riley  and  strike 
the  Smoky  Hill  Fork  as  soon  as  possible,  and  in  ad- 
vance of  as  many  of  these  "  pilgrims  "  as  possible. 
The  only  excitement  of  this  day  was  a  sudden  cheer 
adown  the  line  and  a  craning  of  necks  and  waving  of 
hands.  Before,  from  the  west,  were  approaching  two 

134 


THE  HEE-HAW  EXPRESS 

vehicles — by  the  looks  of  them,  and  by  the  four  mules, 
stages,  both! 

And  two  stages  they  proved  to  be,  as,  skirting  the 
procession  of  "  pilgrims,"  they  dashed  along,  bound 
for  Leavenworth.  The  first  bore  a  lot  of  bright  bunting 
and  streamers,  and  on  its  sides  a  banner  that  said: 
"  Greetings  from  the  Gold  Mountains  of  Kansas/' 
By  its  dusty  appearance  and  the  appearance  of  its 
driver  and  passengers,  this  coach  evidently  had  come 
clear  from  Pike's  Peak.  The  second  coach,  close  fol- 
lowing, was  its  escort  from  Fort  Riley  in  to  Leaven- 
worth. 

Speedily  the  word  travelled  through  the  column  of 
Pike's  Peakers  that  the  first  coach  actually  was  the  first 
return  coach  from  the  gold  mines,  and  that  it  carried 
to  Leavenworth  $3500  in  gold  dust.  Leavenworth,  as 
was  afterwards  reported,  had  a  big  celebration. 

Of  course,  the  sight  of  the  travel-stained  coach, 
and  the  rumors  as  to  what  it  contained  and  what  news 
it  bore,  excited  the  emigrants.  Some  of  them  began 
to  throw  away  stuff  in  order  to  lighten  their  loads ;  so 
that  from  here  on  to  Fort  Riley  the  trail  was  strewn 
with  what  Billy  called  "useless  plunder."  But  the 
Hee-Haw  party  were  experienced  enough  to  start  out 
only  with  what  they  needed,  and  they  had  nothing  to 
throw  away  yet. 

The  last  of  the  settlements  was  Junction  City,  just 
beyond  Fort  Riley  While  the  rest  of  the  party  were 
making  camp  along  with  the  other  "  pilgrims,"  outside 

135 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

the  little  town,  Billy  and  Dave  rode  the  mules  in  to  see 
if  there  were  any  provisions  worth  buying.  Mr. 
Baxter,  the  cook,  said  that  if  they  could  find  any  dried 
apples  he  would  make  a  pie ! 

But  there  were  no  dried  apples  or  any  other  such 
delicacies  in  rude  little  Junction  City,  here  at  the  edge 
of  the  Indian  country.  Every  store  seemed  to  be  a 
saloon ;  and  the  streets  were  thronged  with  rough  emi- 
grants and  soldiers  from  the  fort.  Only  whom  did  the 
boys  meet  but  Wild  Bill  Hickok ! 

He  was  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  plank  sidewalk 
of  the  one  business  street,  with  several  other  men,  ap- 
parently expecting  something. 

"Why,  hello,  Bill!" 

"Hello,  Billy.  How  are  you,  Dave?  Where'd 
you  come  from,  if  I  may  ask?  " 

"  Salt  Creek,"  answered  Billy  Cody. 

"  Going  to  Pike's  Peak/'  announced  Davy. 

"  Good  enough,"  approved  Wild  Bill.  "  People  are 
taking  a  little  gold  out  o'  thar,  that's  sure.  But  I 
don't  believe  all  I  hear." 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  Bill?  " 

"I?  Well,  I  may  go  to  the  diggin's  myself,  and 
I  may  drive  stage.  To-day's  stage  westbound  is  due 
now.  That's  what  we're  looking  for." 

"  She's  a  comin',"  remarked  one  of  the  other  men, 
with  a  nod. 

Sure  enough,  up  the  trail  from  the  east,  along  the 
north  bank  of  the  Smoky  Hill  Fork,  in  the  dusk  and  the 

136 


THE  HEE-HAW  EXPRESS 

dust  came  at  a  gallop  the  Leavenworth  stage  for  the 
Pike's  Peak  country,  drawn  by  its  four  fine  mules.  It 
halted  before  the  Junction  House  Hotel,  and  the  pas- 
sengers clambered  stiffly  out  from  under  the  canvas 
top  that  arched  over  the  wagon  box. 

They  were  only  two,  and  one  from  the  driver's 
box.  The  two  plainly  enough  were  Easterners.  The 
first  was  a  rather  young  man,  with  a  thin  sandy  beard 
and  a  soft  slouch  hat;  the  second  was  a  stoutish,  elderly 
man,  with  a  round  rosy  face  and  a  fringe  of  white 
whiskers  under  his  chin.  He  wore  a  rather  dingy 
whitish  coat;  the  younger  man  wore  a  regulation 
duster.  They  both  gazed  about  them  alertly  before 
entering  the  hotel. 

"  Hello,  Bill,"  nodded  the  stage  driver,  descend- 
ing, after  tossing  his  lines  to  the  hostler  from  the  stage 
stable — for  Junction  City  was  Station  Number  Seven 
on  the  stage  route. 

"  Who's  yore  load,  Tom?  "  queried  somebody. 

"  That  old  fellow  in  the  white  coat,  he's  Horace 
Greeley.  Other  fellow's  named  Richardson — Albert 
D.  Richardson." 

"Where  they  from?" 

"  N'  York,  I  reckon." 

"  Where  they  going?  " 

"  Out  to  the  diggin's." 

"What  line  they  in?" 

"  Newspaper  fellows  of  some  sort,  I  hear  tell.  Any- 
how, they  ask  a  heap  of  questions.  That  old  chap  in 

137 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

the  white  coat  he's  been  speech-makin'  all  through 
Kansas.  As  I  understand  it,  he  an'  that  young  fellow 
are  goin'  out  to  the  mines  to  write  up  the  country,  so 
the  people  of  the  East'll  know  what's  true  an'  what 
ain't."  And  Tom  the  driver  walked  on  into  the  hotel 
to  wash  and  eat. 

"  Seems  to  me  I've  heard  of  Horace  Greeley," 
mused  Wild  Bill.  "  He's  quite  a  man/' 

"  Sure.  He's  editor  of  the  New  York  Tribune," 
asserted  a  man  who  had  not  spoken  before.  "  He's 
the  biggest  man  on  the  biggest  paper  in  the  States, 
and  what  he  says  will  influence  the  people  more  than 
a  stage-load  of  gold.  Richardson's  a  newspaper  man, 
too;  and  another  reporter,  named  Henry  Villard,  of 
Cincinnati,  is  out  at  the  diggin's  now.  But  Greeley's 
the  biggest  of  the  lot.  They  say  only  one  printer  in 
his  office  can  read  his  writing;  but  the  old  man  has 
come  out  here  to  get  the  truth,  and  if  he  tells  the  people 
to  '  go  West '  they'll  go." 

"  That,"  quoth  Wild  Bill  emphatically,  "  is  the  best 
thing  that's  ever  happened  to  this  country.  But  it  seems 
to  me  it's  a  lot  of  trouble  for  a  man  to  take.  Do  you 
reckon  he's  going  to  start  a  paper  out  thar  at  Cherry 
Creek?" 

"No,  sir !  They  say  Horace  Greeley  is  wedded  to 
two  things :  his  New  York  Tribune  and  his  old  white 
coat." 

"  Well,  if  he  makes  any  speech  here  to-night  I'm 
going  to  hear  him,"  said  Wild  Bill. 

138 


THE  HEE-HAW  EXPRESS 

Horace  Greeley  did  make  a  speech  to  citizens  and 
emigrants,  in  a  partly-finished  stone  church.  He  talked 
on  "  Republicanism."  But  Dave  and  Billy  and  Hi 
and  Jim  and  "  Left-over  "  were  too  tired  to  go  and 
hear  him;  and  so  were  the  majority  of  the  "  pilgrims." 
The  Reverend  Mr.  Baxter  went  in  and  reported  that 
it  was  very  good  for  those  who  agreed  with  it. 

Bearing  Horace  Greeley  and  Journalist  Richardson, 
the  stage  continued  westward  in  the  morning.  So  did 
the  Hee-Haw  Express. 


X 

"PIKE'S  PEAK  OR  BUST! 


ALREADY  the  procession  had  considerably  thinned 
out.  Some  of  the  outfits  had  broken  down  and  some 
had  quit  discouraged.  The  Pike's  Peak  region  was 
still  500  miles  distant,  and  the  worst  of  the  journey  lay 
before.  However,  the  Hee-Haw  Express  had  no 
thought  of  quitting. 

"  We'll  have  to  travel  under  discipline  from  now 
on,  boys,"  spoke  Captain  Hi  at  noon  camp.  "  You 
bear  in  mind  I'm  boss,  and  Billy  is  second  boss.  We'll 
try  to  be  as  easy  on  you  as  we  can,  but  what  we  say 
goes.  The  only  person  who  doesn't  need  to  pay  much 
attention  is  the  cook.  He's  his  own  boss.  The  rest  of 
us  will  mount  guard  every  night  and  follow  a  regular 
schedule.  I  appoint  Jim  the  official  hunter,  because 
he's  got  the  best  gun.  Jim,  you  watch  out  for  meat. 
Ought  to  see  buffalo,  plenty."  And  Jim  nodded. 
"  Davy,  you're  assistant  to  the  cook.  You  get  him 
fuel  and  water."  And  Davy  nodded.  "  Left-over  and 
Billy  and  I'll  tend  to  the  mules." 

"  What  I  want  to  know  is,  why  don't  we  ever  have 
pie.  If  I'd  thought  we'd  eat  just  bacon  and  beans  and 

140 


"PIKE'S  PEAK  OR  BUST!" 

coffee  all  the  way  across  to  the  mountains  I  wouldn't 
have  come,"  squeaked  Left-over,  earnestly. 

"  Sowbelly  and  beans  will  make  a  man  of  you/' 
growled  Hi.  "  After  you've  stood  a  steady  diet  of 
that  for  a  couple  o'  months  nothing  can  kill  yuh." 
And  he  rose.  "  All  right ;  catch  up,  boys.  Let's  be 
moving." 

"  Catch  up  "  (or  "  Ketch  up,"  as  Hi  pronounced 
it)  was  the  regulation  signal  in  the  freighters'  trains 
on  the  plains  for  harnessing  the  mules  and  oxen  to  the 
wagons.  So  now  the  span  of  mules  were  put  back 
into  their  places  on  either  side  of  the  tongue,  and 
Left-over  climbed  into  the  seat;  it  was  his  turn  to 
drive. 

Just  before  sunset  Left-over,  peering  ahead  from 
his  driver's  seat,  uttered  a  shrill  whoop  and  tried  to 
whip  up  his  mules. 

"  Hyar !  What're  you  aiming  to  do  ?  "  demanded 
Captain  Hi,  severely. 

"  Aw,  can't  you  let  a  feller  be  ?  "  whined  Left-over. 
"  I  was  going  on  ahead,  is  all,  and  see  what  I  could 
buy." 

On  a  little  hillock,  before,  beside  the  trail  was  what 
appeared  to  be  another  stage  station  of  canvas,  but  the 
top  of  the  tent  (for  wall  tent  it  turned  out  to  be)  dis- 
played in  large  black  letters  the  sign :  "  Grocery." 
This  explained  Left-over's  hurry.  However,  as  the 
nearest  "  pilgrims  "  were  behind  he  would  have  the 

141 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

grocery  to  himself,  so  Captain  Hi  calmed  him  down 
with — 

"  Don't  be  so  brash  about  it,  then.  If  you  go  and 
kill  off  one  of  those  mules  we'll  put  you  in  harness 
with  the  other  one." 

"  And  that  will  be  a  pair,"  added  Billy,  quick  as  a 
wink. 

"  Never  mind,  Left-over,"  comforted  the  Rev- 
erend. "  Maybe  we  can  get  our  dried  apples  there 
and  have  that  pie  I  promised  you." 

But  as  they  toiled  on  nearer,  the  tent  grocery 
seemed  deserted.  It  had  no  customers  and  no  pro- 
prietor. 

"  Whoa !  "  yelled  Left-over  loudly,  pulling  down 
his  mules  opposite  the  tent.  "  Whoa,  there !  "  And — 
"  Hello,"  he  hailed  shrilly. 

At  this  slowly  emerged  from  between  two  large 
barrels  the  figure  of  a  gaunt,  frowsy-headed  man — 
like  a  dog  crawling  out  of  a  kennel.  The  man  must 
have  been  asleep.  He  yawned  and  stretched  and 
stared. 

"Howdy?" 

"  Howdy,  strangers." 

"What  do  you  keep?" 

"  Everything." 

"Got  any  dried  apples?"  demanded  Left-over, 
eagerly. 

"  Nary  apple." 

"Got  any  crackers?" 

142 


"PIKE'S  PEAK  OR  BUST!" 

"  Nary  cracker." 

"  Any  ham?  "  queried  Hi. 

"Nary  ham/' 

"  Any  molasses?  "  asked  Billy. 

"  Nary  molasses." 

"Any  salt?  "asked  Jim. 

"  Nary  salt." 

"  What  have  you  got,  then?  " 

"  Pickles  and  smokin'  tobacco,  strangers.  Which'll 
you  have?  " 

"  That's  a  great  grocery  stock !  "  scoffed  Billy,  as 
the  Hee-Haw  party  proceeded.  "  Pickles  and  smok- 
ing tobacco ! " 

"I  should  say!"  agreed  Davy.  "Not  much 
chance  for  a  pie  there !  " 

"  I  didn't  s'pose  the  country  was  going  to  be  as  bad 
as  this,"  whined  Left-over,  from  the  wagon  seat. 

"  Wait  till  you  strike  the  wust  of  it,"  answered 
Jim. 

"Somebody's  broken  down  ahead,  hasn't  he?" 
queried  the  Reverend  Mr.  Baxter. 

"  Looks  so.  We'll  go  on  and  make  camp  there, 
anyway,  and  see,"  directed  Captain  Hi. 

The  trail  had  veered  apart  from  the  Smoky  Hill 
Fork  and  was  cutting  through  a  wide,  flat  bottom-land, 
grown  to  short  buffalo  grass  and  a  few  cottonwood 
trees.  In  the  midst  of  the  stretch  was  a  "  prairie 
schooner,"  halted,  its  white  hood  just  visible  in  the 
gathering  dusk.  Lonely  enough  it  looked,  too — soli- 

143 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

tary  there  with  not  another  token  of  human  life  near 
it.  It  did  not  have  even  a  camp-fire. 

In  the  twilight  the  Hee-Haw  Express  drew  upon 
it  and  halted  also.  The  owner  of  the  wagon  was  sit- 
ting on  the  tongue,  smoking  an  old  clay  pipe. 

"  Howdy,  strangers?"  he  greeted,  coolly. 

"Howdy,"  they  responded;  and  suddenly  Billy 
nudged  Davy  and  pointed  to  the  wagon  hood. 

"  Pike's  Peak  or  Bust !  "  said  the  one  sign ;  and 
under  that  had  been  added :  "  Busted,  by  Thunder !  " 

"What's  the  matter,  pardner?  Stuck?"  asked 
Captain  Hi. 

The  man  jerked  his  thumb  toward  the  wagon  hood. 

"Read  for  yoreself,  stranger,"  he  bade. 
"Busted!" 

"  Where's  your  party?  " 

"  I'm  the  party.  I  sent  the  old  woman  and  the 
kids  back  by  stage,  and  I  air  hyar  and  hyar  I  stay,  I 
reckon." 

"  Where  are  your  animals  ?  " 

"  My  critters  war  a  hoss  and  a  caow,  hitched  to- 
gether. Injuns  stole  my  hoss ;  the  old  caow's  had  a 
calf  daown  in  the  willows;  and  I'm  busted.  How  far 
to  Pike's  Peak  yet?" 

"  'Bout  five  hundred  miles." 

"  Wall,"  drawled  the  man,  yawning,  "  in  case  my 
old  woman  doesn't  find  another  outfit  back  at  the 
Missouri  I  reckon  I  can  wait  till  the  calf  grows  UQ." 

144 


"PIKE'S  PEAK  OR  BUST!" 

"Nothing  we  can  do  for  you?"  invited  Mr. 
Baxter. 

The  man  slowly  shook  his  head. 

"  Nope,  stranger.  I  air  comfortable.  'Bout  two 
miles  on  you'll  find  a  better  campin'  place.  Water  and 
fuel  right  around  hyar  I'm  goin'  to  need,  myself." 

So,  thus  politely  dismissed,  the  Hee-Haw  Express 
moved  along  until,  where  the  trail  crossed  a  creek, 
they  found  the  wood  and  water. 

The  trail  stretched  ever  on  and  on.  For  one  only 
six  or  eight  weeks  old  it  was  remarkable.  Hundreds 
of  wagons  and  animals  had  worn  it  wide  and  plain; 
and,  moreover,  on  either  side  of  it  were  scattered 
cook-stoves,  trunks^  bedsteads,  bureaus,  and  other 
bulky  household  stuff,  cast  overboard  to  relieve  the 
tiring  teams.  Davy  found  a  rag  doll  and  Billy  picked 
up  a  thick  hank  of  false  hair.  As  Jim  remarked :  "  A 
fellow  could  follow  this  trail  in  the  dark  by  stubbing 
his  toes ! " 

"  Busted "  outfits  were  constantly  passed.  The 
strain  of  the  wild  march  to  "  Pike's  Peak  "  was  taking 
its  toll  of  the  weak  and  the  illy  prepared. 

The  stage  stations  were  placed  from  ten  to  twenty 
miles  apart.  They  had  been  located  in  a  hurry ; 
wagons  sent  out  from  Leavenworth  by  Jones  &  Russell 
had  dropped  off  the  station  agents  and  their  outfits 
as  fast  as  possible  all  the  way  through  to  Denver. 
Some  of  the  stations  were  merely  pieces  of  canvas 
laid  over  pole  frames;  and  some  were  caves  in  clay 

1.0  145 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

banks  of  streams;  but  under  the  canvas  and  in  the 
caves  were  living  not  only  men  but  their  wives. 

However,  the  fact  that  the  stations  had  been  estab- 
lished at  all  in  such  a  rush  across  600  miles  of  unin- 
habited country  struck  Davy  as  no  small  feat.  And 
every  day,  on  this  Smoky  Hill  route  trail,  a  stage  com- 
ing from  the  west  was  met,  and  another  coming  from 
the  east  passed  them.  The  stages  went  galloping  along 
hauled  by  four  dusty  mules.  The  report  was  that  the 
company  had  spent  three  hundred  thousand  dollars 
before  the  first  coach  had  been  started,  and  that  the 
expenses  were  eight  hundred  dollars  a  day !  The  fare 
from  Leavenworth  to  Denver  was  $100. 

The  sight  of  the  two  stages  each  day  was  quite  an 
event  to  the  toiling  Pike's  Peak  Pilgrims,  and  they 
levelled  all  kinds  of  questions  at  driver  and  passengers 
whenever  they  had  a  chance. 

The  trail  did  not  cling  to  the  Smoky  Hill  Fork,  but 
frequently  was  far  north  of  it.  Numerous  side  creeks 
were  crossed,  supplying  water  and  wood;  and  again 
there  would  be  no  fuel  but  the  gleaning  of  buffalo 
chips.  The  country  was  flattening  out  into  short-grass 
plains — buffalo  country. 

Captain  Hi  and  Lieutenant  Billy  saw  to  it  that  the 
span  of  mules  were  well  attended  to  at  noon  and  at 
evening,  and  that  the  daily  marches  of  the  Hee-Haw 
Express  were  steady  and  systematic.  So  the  party 
forged  straight  along.  The  mules  were  fast  walkers. 

"  Strangers,  you  must  be  in  a  powerful  hurry  to  dig 

146 


"PIKE'S  PEAK  OR  BUST!" 

out  that  pound  of  gold  a  day,"  hailed  a  "  Lightning 
Express  "  that  the  "  Hee-Haw  "  passed. 

This  Lightning  Express  was  taking  a  whole  saw- 
mill out — as  well  as  a  large  family.  The  household 
wagon  bore  the  sign  "  Lightning  Express  " ;  it  was 
drawn  by  a  mule  and  an  ox,  pulling  together.  Then 
followed  a  freighting  wagon  loaded  with  the  saw- 
mill, and  drawn  by  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  a  horse,  the 
horse  being  in  front  of  the  yoke  of  oxen.  A  woman 
and  several  children  were  trudging  beside  the  covered 
wagon.  A  man  afoot  drove  with  his  whip. 

"  Right  you  are/'  replied  Captain  Hi  to  the  hail. 

"Have  you  heard  any  news?"  quavered  the 
woman.  "  Is  it  true  that  people  are  putting  knives  in 
the  bottom  of  their  wagon-boxes  and  sliding  down 
Pike's  Peak  and  scraping  up  the  gold  in  big  slivers  ?  " 

"I've  heard  about  it  but  I've  never  seen  it,  ma'am," 
said  Hi,  truthfully. 

"  When  do  we  see  the  mountains?  " 

"  Oh,  not  for  a  few  hundred  miles  more,"  informed 
the  Reverend,  kindly. 

"  Well,  when  you  get  there  and  see  Jacob  Smith 
from  Posey  County,  Injianny,  tell  him  we're  coming  as 
fast  as  we  can,"  she  called  after  them. 

"  We  will." 

"  Shouldn't  wonder  if  that  was  Jacob  Smith  or 
some  other  pilgrim  on  his  \vay  back  already,"  pro- 
claimed Jim,  pointing.  "  Reckon  he's  made  his  pile 
and  is  heading  home  to  spend  it." 

147 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Wish  we  were  doing  the  same !  "  squeaked  Left- 
over. "  I'd  buy  pie ;  all  I  could  eat." 

"  I  don't,"  announced  Billy  Cody.  "  Do  you, 
Dave!  I  want  the  fun  of  finding  before  I  have  the 
fun  of  spending." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Mr.  Baxter;  "  it's  a  heap  more  fun 
to  earn  what  you  get." 

A  man  on  horseback  was  wending  way  down  the 
trail  from  the  west.  It  was  an  exception  to  meet  any- 
body travelling  east ;  he  was  the  first  since  they  had  left 
the  stage  line.  If  he  came  from  the  Pike's  Peak  coun- 
try he  ought  to  bring  much  news. 

So,  as  he  met  them,  Captain  Hi  halted  the  Hee- 
Haw  Express  and  hailed  him. 

"  Howdy,  stranger  ?     Bound  far  ?  " 

"  To  the  States  if  I  can  get  there." 

"Come  from  far?" 

"  Far  enough,  mister.  I  come  from  the  Cherry 
Creek  diggin's." 

Hurrah!  Davy  had  been  eyeing  him  keenly.  He 
was  an  unshaven,  thin  but  powerful  man,  with 
cadaverous  face  and  fierce  black  eyes ;  and  he  bestrode 
a  mule  as  cadaverous  as  himself.  He  carried  a  musket ; 
and  that  seemed  to  be  about  all.  Anyway,  his  saddle- 
bags were  disappointingly  flat.  But  he  may  have  had 
his  gold  stowed  out  of  sight  or  deposited  to  his  ac- 
count somewhere. 

"  Clear  from  the  diggin's,  eh  ? "  pursued  Hi 
"  How  are  things  out  thar  ?  Booming  ?  " 

148 


"PIKE'S  PEAK  OR  BUST!" 

The  man  stroked  his  black  beard  and  surveyed  the 
party. 

"  Do  I  look  booming,  mister?  "  he  demanded.  "  I 
wouldn't  give  an  acre  in  old  Missouri  for  the  whole  of 
the  Pike's  Peak  country.  You  going  out  yonder  after 
gold?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Wall,  you're  on  the  hardest  trail  you  ever  tackled, 
mister;  no  wood,  no  water,  no  forage,  and  game 
mighty  scarce.  And  when  you  get  to  the  end  you  won't 
find  much.  That  story  about  gold  is  the  biggest  hoax 
ever  invented.  From  now  on  you'll  meet  about  as 
many  people  turned  back  as  there  are  going  on." 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  Isn't  there  any  gold  at  all  ?  " 
asked  Billy,  dismayed. 

"  Mighty  little  and  hard  to  get." 

"  I'm  going  on  just  the  same  and  see,"  said  Billy, 
doggedly. 

"  We're  with  you,  Billy,"  encouraged  the  Reverend. 
And — "  What's  happening  out  there,  anyway?  "  he 
queried  of  the  returning  pilgrim.  "  We  hear  that 
twenty  thousand  people  are  on  the  road." 

"  They've  made  two  towns  on  Cherry  Creek ;  one's 
Auraria,  t'other's  called  Denver  now.  They've  had  a 
meeting,  too,  and  organized  to  send  a  delegate  to  Con- 
gress from  the  Territory  of  Jefferson;  and  the  first 
Monday  in  June  they  held  a  convention  to  form  the 
State  of  Jefferson.  That  was  after  I  left,  so  I  dunno 
what  you  will  find  when  you  get  there.  But  you  won't 

149 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

find  gold ;  at  least  not  to  amount  to  anything.  And  my 
advice  is  turn  around  now  'fore  you  starve  to  death." 

With  that,  he  clapped  his  heels  against  his  mule, 
and  continued.  So  did  the  Hee-Haw  Express — but  in 
the  opposite  direction. 

"  I  reckon/'  said  Captain  Hi,  "  we'll  keep  going. 
Little  Billy  said  it." 

That  was  a  great  disappointment — to  have  such  a 
report.  The  man  seemed  to  have  spoken  the  truth,  for 
from  now  on  the  returning  goldseekers  rapidly  in- 
creased in  numbers,  and  they  all  insisted  that  the  Pike's 
Peak  country  was  a  hoax,  and  the  trail  to  it  very  bad. 
Indeed,  many  "  pilgrims  "  were  turning  back  without 
having  reached  the  "  diggin's  "  at  all. 

The  Hee-Haw  party  were  now  well  out  in  the  midst 
of  the  Great  Plains  which  stretched  from  the  Missouri 
to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Afar  extended  on  either 
hand  and  before  and  behind,  the  rolling,  sandy  sur- 
face, covered  with  the  short,  woolly  buffalo  grass,  and 
broken  here  and  there  by  little  hills  and  occasional 
willows  and  cottonwoods  growing  by  the  creeks.  Jack- 
rabbits,  as  large  as  fox-terriers,  and  prairie-dogs  and 
coyotes  and  gray  wolves  and  antelope  scampered  from 
the  trail,  and  the  paths  made  by  the  buffalo  frequently 
crossed  and  recrossed. 

These  paths  were  worn  deep,  like  bridle  paths.  Jim 
kept  the  camp  in  fresh  meat  from  the  antelope  that  he 
shot.  He  stalked  them  very  cleverly,  as  Dave  thought, 
by  lying  out  in  the  brush,  and  waving  his  handker- 

150 


"PIKE'S  PEAK  OR  BUST!" 

chief  from  the  end  of  his  wiping  stick.  The  flag  seemed 
to  fascinate  the  curious-minded  antelope,  who  edged 
nearer  and  nearer  to  him,  circling  around  and  around 
and  peering  and  stamping,  until  he  shot  what  he  wished, 
at  his  leisure. 

The  meat  was  tender  and  sweet,  but  according  to 
Billy  and  the  others,  it  was  nothing  compared  with 
buffalo  meat.  Buffalo  meat  gave  more  strength,  and 
Billy  claimed  that  anybody  could  eat  it  for  weeks  at  a 
time  and  not  tire  of  it.  So  they  all  wanted  buffalo — 
and  especially  Left-over.  He  was  clamorous  to  shoot  a 
buffalo,  and  began  to  whine  about  it  continually. 

"  Lookee  here,  Left-over,"  finally  spoke  Jim.  "  If 
we  let  you  shoot  a  buffalo  will  you  quit  this  etarnel  gab 
about  that  and  pie  ?  " 

"  I  will.    Truly  I  will,  Jim/'  promised  Left-over. 

"All  right,  then.  As  soon  as  we  sight  buffalo, 
where  we  can  get  at  'em,  you  can  shoot  one,  and  after 
that  shut  up  till  we  get  to  Denver." 

"  With  your  gun,  Jim  ?  " 

"  Yes,  with  my  gun." 

Only  a  few  buffalo  had  been  seen  thus  far.  The 
"  pilgrim  "  travel  on  the  trail  had  split  their  herds 
and  had  made  them  wary.  But  on  the  very  next  day 
it  was  that  Billy,  driving  the  laboring  mules,  from  the 
wagon  seat  whooped  exultantly : 

"  Buffalo !  Plenty  o'  'em.  There's  yore  chance, 
Left-over." 

Left-over  came  running  from  the  rear. 

151 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"Where,  Billy?" 

"Over  there,  of  course.  Don't  you  see  them?" 
and  Billy  reined  in  his  mules. 

"I  see  'em!  I  see  'em!"  yelled  Left-over,  much 
excited.  "  Where's  my  gun?  Is  it  loaded?  How'll  1 
get 'em?" 

He  would  have  grabbed  the  gun  from  Jim  and  have 
set  right  out  afoot,  but  Captain  Hi  and  Jim  both 
stopped  him. 

"  Easy,  easy,  now !  "  exclaimed  Hi,  gazing  calculat- 
ingly.  "  Thar's  buffalo  enough  for  all,  I  reckon. 
Must  be  two  thousand.  But  if  you  try  to  run  'em  down 
on  foot  we'll  lose  every  one.  Let's  unharness  the 
mules,  fust." 

Left-over  promptly  jumped  to  help.  The  buffalo 
were  plain  in  sight.  To  the  right  of  the  trail,  slightly 
ahead  and  just  out  of  gun-shot,  they  were  grazing  in  a 
great  herd  which  speckled  the  landscape  like  a  mass 
of  gooseberry  bushes. 

"  Looks  as  if  we  had  'em  all  to  ourselves,"  quoth 
Jim,  as  the  mules  were  speedily  unharnessed  from  the 
wagon.  "  No  '  pilgrims  '  around  to  interfere  with 
this  herd.  Reckon  if  we  don't  get  a  mess  it  will  be 
our  own  fault." 

"Where  do  I  come  in?"  whined  Left-over,  anx- 
iously. "  You  promised  me,  didn't  you?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did,  and  I  never  break  a  promise.  Hyar's 
your  gun,  now.  You  stay  right  whar  you  are.  We'll 

152 


"PIKE'S  PEAK  OR  BUST!" 

drive  the  buffalo  in  to  you.  Otherwise  you'll  jest 
shoot  up  the  landscape  and  mebbe  yourself  or  us  in 
the  bargain.  Lend  me  one  of  your  shooting-irons, 
Billy.  The  pistol's  enough.  Thanks." 

So  saying,  he  vaulted  on  one  of  the  mules,  Hi  did 
the  same.  They  rode  bareback  with  the  traces  tied 
short,  and  used  the  coiled  lines  as  bridle-reins.  Hi 
carried  his  long-barrelled  Mississippi  yager,  Jim  held 
the  Colt's  navy  revolver  in  his  right  hand.  On  a  wide 
circuit  they  set  out,  as  if  to  get  behind  the  buffalo  and 
turn  them  toward  the  wagon. 

"  What  are  we  goin'  to  do  ?  Where  do  we  come 
in?  "  wildly  appealed  Left-over. 

"  We  stay  here,  I  reckon,"  said  Billy  coolly. 

"  You  and  Davy  and  Left-over  can  whang  away," 
bade  Mr  Baxter,  with  a  laugh.  "  I'll  sit  in  the  re- 
served seat  and  see  the  fun." 

So  saying,  he  calmly  clambered  aboard  and  into 
the  seat,  where  he  stowed  himself  at  languid  ease. 

"If  those  mules  aren't  broken  to  buffalo  there 
won't  be  any  fun — except  for  the  buffalo,"  observed 
Billy. 

"  Yes,  Hi  and  Jim  are  liable  to  be  stampeded  clear 
back  into  Leavenworth,"  chuckled  Mr.  Baxter. 

With  the  four  at  the  wagon  keenly  watching,  Hi 
and  Jim  pursued  their  circuit.  They  rode  at  rapid 
gallop,  and  presently  disappeared  in  a  shallow  draw. 
The  next  sign  of  them  was  the  action  of  the  buffalo 

153 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

herd.  Animals  on  the  farther  outskirts  began  to  lift 
their  heads  and  stare  and  show  uneasiness.  Gradually 
the  whole  herd  were  staring  in  the  one  direction;  and 
on  a  sudden,  like  a  vast  blanket  tossed  by  the  wind, 
forth  they  lunged  into  motion.  And  with  reason,  for 
out  into  the  open,  on  the  far  side  of  them,  came  racing 
hard  on  their  long-eared  mules,  Hi  and  Jim. 

"Hurrah!"  cried  Billy  Cody,  exultant.  "Those 
mules  are  O.  K.  Lie  low  and  stay  by  the  wagon, 
fellows.  Meat's  coming." 

"What'll  I  do?"  yelled  Left-over.     "Where'll  I 

go?" 

"  You  do  as  I  say/'  ordered  Billy,  thoroughly  alive. 
"  Stay  right  here.  We  may  have  to  split  that  herd." 

On  blundered  the  buffalo.  The  roll  of  their  hoofs 
sounded  like  heavy  thunder,  and  the  dust  floated  over 
their  dark  backs.  Pressing  valiantly,  Hi  and  Jim 
held  their  mules  in  the  rear,  and,  still  circuiting,  forced 
the  herd  over  toward  the  wagon. 

"  Great  Caesar's  ghost,  boys !  "  gasped  Mr.  Baxter, 
straightening  in  his  seat.  "  Don't  forget  that  I'm  up 
aloft  here,  and  I'll  land  hard  if  that  herd  strikes  us!  " 

The  herd  arrived  almost  before  he  had  finished 
speaking.  The  foremost — a  big  cow  in  the  lead — went 
streaming  past  just  in  front  of  the  wagon;  and  the 
whole  van  of  the  shaggy,  crazy  army  loomed  in  ont 
grand  charge  on  either  hand. 

"  I'll  tend  to  this  side ;  you  and  Left-over  tend  to 

154 


''GIVE    IT   TO   THEM  !     SPLIT    *EM  !     SPLIT   'EM 


"PIKE'S  PEAK  OR  BUST!" 

the  other/'  shouted  Billy  to  Dave.    "  Give  it  to  them! 
Split  'em !    Split  'em !    Wave  yore  hat,  Reverend." 

"  Now's  your  chance,  Left-over,"  exclaimed  Dave, 
levelling  his  revolver. 

The  Reverend  waved  his  broad  hat  and  shouted 
lustily. 

"Bang!"  spoke  Billy's  yager.  Davy  pointed  his 
revolver  at  the  nearest  buffalo  and  pulled  trigger.  He 
dimly  saw  the  huge  creature  plunge  forward  to  its 
knees,  but  he  did  not  wait  to  see  more;  he  only  pulled 
trigger  as  fast  as  he  could  right  into  the  faces  of  the 
pelting  herd.  He  had  a  vague  vision  of  bulging  eyes 
and  lolling  red  tongues,  and  short  horns  and  tangled 
foreheads  and  lunging  shoulders,  and  ever  the  dark, 
panting  mass  flowed  past. 

Suddenly  a  tremendous  report  in  his  ear  well-nigh 
deafened  him,  and  Left-over  yelped  loudly,  crying, 
"  I  got  him !  I  got  him !  " 

"  Hooray !  "  screamed  the  Reverend,  choking  with 
glee,  and  laughing  so  that  he  doubled  and  swayed. 

Left-over  was  on  his  back,  heels  high,  gun  waving.  ' 
He  sat  up,  pulled  trigger,  and  over  he  went  again, 
kicked  flat  by  the  heavy  Sharp's.     At  every  shot  he 
yelped,  sprawled  backward,  sat  up,  shot,  and  yelped 
again. 

Davy's  revolver  was  emptied,  and  he  had  space  to 
watch.  Now  Left-over's  gun  was  empty,  too;  and 
dusty  and  perspiring  and  wild-eyed,  he  picked  himself 
up. 

155 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  How  many  did  I  kill  ?  "  he  squealed  hoarsely, 
"Are  all  those  mine ?" 

For  the  herd  had  passed,  the  wagon  was  untouched, 
and  the  chief  token  of  the  battle  was  the  half  dozen 
bulky  forms  lying  prone  almost  in  the  very  trail  itself. 
Davy  drew  a  long  breath.  That  had  been  an  exciting 
moment.  Hi  and  Jim  came  galloping  in,  their  mules 
lathered  and  puffing. 


XI 

SOME  HALTS  BY  THE  WAY 


"  GOOD  work,"  praised  Hi,  with  casual  glance. 
"  Thar  are  three  or  four  more  out  yonder.  Reckon 
we've  got  meat  enough  now  for  a  while." 

"Which  are  mine?"  squealed  Left-over.  "Did 
you  other  fellows  kill  any?  I'd  have  killed  fifty  if  I'd 
had  any  more  cartridges." 

"  You  killed  one,  all  right,  Left-over,"  asserted 
the  Reverend.  "  I  saw  you.  You  killed  him  six  times 
and  once  more  for  luck." 

"  No,  I  didn't,  either !  "  disputed  Left-over.  "  I 
killed  seven,  mebbe  more.  I  shot  seven  times." 

"Which  is  it,  Reverend?  "  asked  Hi. 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Baxter  pointed,  with  a  grin; 
and  grinning,  Hi  and  Jim  rode  forward  to  inspect. 
Davy  went,  too;  he  was  certain  that  a  couple  of  buf- 
falo had  fallen  to  his  revolver,  and  as  there  were  only 
three  on  this  end  of  the  wagon,  he  did  not  see  where 
Left-over's  seven  could  be. 

Hi  and  Jim  were  gazing  down  upon  a  huge  buffalo 
bull,  who  lay  with  his  nose  touching  the  fore  wheel  of 
the  wagon.  He  made  a  great  pool  of  blood,  which 

157 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

flowed  from  wounds  in  his  head  and  his  shoulders  and 
back  and  legs  and  everywhere,  apparently. 

*  You  certainly  peppered  him,  Left-over,"  assured 
Hi.  "  I  reckon  he's  dead." 

"  Did  I  do  all  that?  "  queried  Left-over.  And  he 
began  to  strut.  "  Well,  I  think  that's  pretty  good.  If 
I  hadn't  been  here  he'd  have  run  right  over  the  wagon. 
I  picked  him  out  on  purpose.  But  I  must  have  killed 
a  lot  more."  And  chattering  and  strutting  he  roamed 
about,  every  few  seconds  returning  to  examine  the 
holes  that  he  had  made  or  to  thrust  the  carcass  with 
his  toes  or  to  proclaim  how  large  it  was. 

:(  You  surely  made  your  mark.  Now  you  can  rest 
a  while,"  chuckled  Jim.  "  What's  your  count,  Billy?  " 

"  Two  at  my  end,"  reported  Billy,  who  had  shot 
and  killed,  and  had  reloaded  like  lightning  and  shot  and 
killed  again. 

"  And  two  for  Davy,  and  another  who's  dropped 
yonder ;  and  those  that  Jim  and  I  got.  That  makes  a 
mess,"  said  Hi.  "  Wall,  reckon  we'd  better  butcher 
'fore  the  wolves  spoil  the  meat.  You  fellows  go  ahead 
here,  and  Jim  and  I'll  fetch  in  the  rest." 

"Davy  didn't  do  so  bad,  himself;  did  he?"  re- 
marked Mr.  Baxter,  climbing  out  of  the  wagon.  "  Did 
you  aim,  Davy  ?  " 

"No,"  confessed  Davy;  "not  after  the  first  shot 
My  eyes  were  full  of  buffalo." 

"  Mine's  the  biggest,  anyhow,"  boasted  Left-over, 
"  If  I  hadn't  shot  him  sc  much  he'd  have  got  away." 

158 


SOME  HALTS  BY  THE  WAY 

With  Davy  and  Left-over  helping  the  best  that 
they  could,  Billy  and  the  Reverend  dressed  the  buf- 
faloes that  were  near  the  wagon;  and  before  they  were 
done  Hi  and  Jim  came  in,  packing  the  best  portions 
of  those  lying  out  in  the  wake  of  the  herd.  Even 
though  only  the  best  parts — the  humps  and  rib  roasts — 
were  taken,  the  outfit  had  what  looked  to  be  more  meat 
than  they  could  use.  But  Hi  and  Jim  were  up  to  snuff. 

"  We'll  jerk  this  as  we  go,"  said  Hi.  "  Cut  it  into 
strips,  fellows." 

So  they  cut  much  of  the  meat  into  strips  about  two 
inches  wide  and  as  thick  as  one's  finger  and  a  foot  long, 
and  hung  it  on  cord  all  around  the  wagon,  row  after 
row.  So  dry  was  the  air  and  so  pure  out  here  in  the 
great  open  plains  that  before  the  wagon  had  travelled 
an  hour  the  strips  already  were  curing  hard  and  dark. 
They  resembled  strips  of  leather.  That  considerable 
dust  settled  on  them  apparently  did  no  harm. 

"  Now  they'll  keep  forever/'  declared  Hi,  striding 
along  after  a  brief  inspection.  "  You  can  chaw  'em 
as  they  are,  or  fry  'em ;  and  you'll  find  'em  the  sweetest 
meat  you  ever  stuck  between  your  jaws.  Thar's 
nothing  better  than  buffalo  jerky." 

That  afternoon  they  passed  another  stalled  Pike's 
Peak  outfit — a  whole  family,  this  time,  with  their 
wagon  mired  down  to  the  hubs  in  a  boggy  place  that 
sometimes  was  a  creek.  The  canvas  top  proclaimed : 
"  Root  Hog  or  Die !  We're  from  Ohio.  Bound  for 
the  Gold  Fields." 

159 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Started  rooting  a  leetle  early,  haven't  you  ? " 
queried  Hi,  as  the  Hee-Haw  Express  halted  to  survey. 

A  thin,  sallow  woman  was  sitting  on  the  ground 
holding  a  baby.  Three  children  were  playing  about. 
A  cookstove  stood  out,  with  dishes  scattered  around. 
A  yoke  of  scrawny  lame  oxen  grazed  near. 

At  Hi's  good-natured  hail  the  woman  gave  a  weak, 
tired  answer. 

"  Howdy,  strangers.  Yes,  'pears  like  we're  stuck. 
We've  been  here  since  yesterday.  Can't  seem  to  get 
out." 

"  Are  you  alone?  "  asked  Mr.  Baxter. 

"  No,  sir.  But  my  man  he's  thar  in  the  wagon, 
sick.  Reckon  he's  got  the  janders,  and  he  isn't  any 
good." 

But  a  boy  younger  than  Davy  walked  forward 
from  the  other  children.  He  was  a  ragged,  sharp- 
faced  youngster,  and  now  full  of  business. 

"  I'm  boss  of  this  outfit,"  he  asserted.  "  Say,  can't 
you  hitch  on  your  mules  an'  give  us  a  lift.  Those  oxen 
of  ours  can't  pull  grass  up  by  the  roots,  they're  so 
plumb  wore  out.  It's  a  hard  trail,  strangers." 

"  Sure  we  can,"  replied  Hi,  promptly.  "  Unhitch, 
boys.  Let's  snake  'em  out  o'  thar." 

"  Want  our  oxen,  too?  "  keenly  queried  the  boy. 

"  Nope,  sonny.  We  can  haul  the  wagon,  but  we 
can't  haul  the  bulls  at  the  same  time." 

At  shout  and  crack  of  lash  the  Hee-Haw  mules 
sturdily  put  their  shoulders  to  their  collars  and  with 

160 


SOME  HALTS  BY  THE  WAY 

heave  and  groan  the  wagon  rolled  out  to  the  firm 
ground. 

"  Much  obliged,"  said  the  boy.  "  What  do  we  owe 
you?" 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Hi. 

"  Strangers/'  spoke  a  quavering  voice,  and  the  man 
himself  poked  his  face  out  from  under  the  hood, 
"  how'll  you  trade  some  of  that  meat  for  a  sack  of 
flour.  I've  a  powerful  hankering  for  fresh  meat." 

He  was  as  yellow  as  a  sunflower,  and  looked  pretty 
miserable. 

"  Take  ten  feet  of  it  and  welcome,"  proffered  Mr. 
Baxter  at  once.  "  We  don't  want  your  flour." 

"  No ;  we've  got  plenty  flour,"  added  Hi. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  woman,  "  but  we  don't 
travel  on  charity.  My  man's  got  a  turrible  hankering 
for  meat,  and  if  you'll  trade  we'll  be  right  glad  to 
dicker  with  you.  I  reckon  you  can  use  the  flour,  can't 
you?" 

"  Just  as  you  say,  then,  ma'am,"  responded  Hi. 
"  But  you're  welcome  to  the  meat." 

Billy  was  already  slashing  at  a  string  of  the  jerky; 
down  it  came.  Seeing  this,  the  Ohio  boy  dived  into 
the  wagon  and  lustily  dragged  forth  a  sack  of  flour. 

He  shouldered  it  and  staggered  with  it  toward  the 
Hee-Haw  wagon.  Billy  sprang  to  take  it,  but  the  boy 
shook  his  head  stubbornly. 

"  I'm  man  enough  to  tote  this,"  he  panted. 

"  I  reckon  you  are,  sonny,"  grinned  Hi.     "  But 

11  161 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

you'll  lemme  help  you  toss  it  into  the  wagon,  won't 
you?  You're  so  strong  and  sassy  you're  liable  to  bust 
a  hole  through  the  box !  " 

"  How  far  to  Pike's  Peak,  strangers  ?  "  asked  the 
woman,  anxiously. 

"  A  few  hundred  miles,  ma'am." 

"  It  seems  a  powerful  long  road,"  she  sighed. 
'  We've  come  clear  from  Ohio ;  drove  the  whole  way. 
We  started  last  fall,  an'  wintered  in  Missouri.  That's 
where  this  baby  was  born." 

"  We'll  get  there,  ma,"  encouraged  the  boy. 
"  Pap'll  feel  better  now,  an'  we'll  go  a-whoopin'." 

"  I  hope  so,"  she  faltered.  "  But  they  do  say  there 
isn't  any  gold,  anyhow." 

Davy  felt  sorry  for  her.  Evidently  so  did  the  Rev- 
erend Mr.  Baxter. 

"  What  is  your  name,  if  you  please?  "  he  asked. 

"  Jones.  Mrs.  Jasper  Jones.  My  man's  a  black- 
smith." 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Jones,  we  understand  there's  quite  a 
town  going  up  out  at  the  mountains;  and  if  we  get 
there  before  you  do  we'll  trade  this  flour  in  for  a  corner 
lot  and  your  husband  can  start  in  blacksmithing." 

"  Will  you  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  brightening.  "  Now 
that's  mighty  kind  of  you." 

"  I'll  take  care  of  you,  ma,"  comforted  the  boy, 
quickly.  "  I'll  take  care  of  you  an'  pap,  too,  as  soon 
as  we  get  where  there's  some  work." 

"  I  believe  you  will,  sonny,"   spoke  Jim  admir- 

162 


SOME  HALTS  BY  THE  WAY 

ingly.  "  You'll  make  the  fur  fly.  We'll  tell  'em  you're 
coming,  so  they'll  leave  space  for  you." 

And  Billy  added  as  good  measure : 

"  When  you  get  to  the  diggin's,  if  you  don't  see  me 
you  ask  for  Billy  Cody.  I'll  fix  you  out." 

"  Aw,  crickity !  "  gasped  the  boy,  staring.  "  Say — 
are  you  Billy  Cody,  the  Boy  Scout?  " 

"  I'm  Billy  Cody,  all  right,"  responded  Billy,  now 
somewhat  confused,  while  Hi  and  Jim  and  Mr.  Baxter 
laughed  loudly. 

"  We  know  you.  We  read  all  about  you  in  the 
paper,"  proclaimed  the  boy,  excited.  "  That  time  you 
fought  the  Injuns.  Say — will  you  shake  hands  with 
me?" 

"  Aw,"  stammered  Billy,  trying  to  hide  behind  the 
wagon,  "  forget  about  that,  will  you?  I'm  nobody." 

"Terrible  modest  all  of  a  sudden,  isn't  he!" 
chuckled  Jim,  as  he  and  Hi  and  the  Reverend  finished 
harnessing  the  mules  again. 

"  I  killed  a  big  buffalo !  Biggest  one  you  ever 
saw!"  squealed  Left-over.  "Shot  him  all  to  pieces 
jest  as  he  was  running  into  us.  Didn't  I,  Billy?  " 

"Hooray  for  Left-over!"  cheered  Hi.  "Well, 
catch  up,  boys.  We'd  better  be  moving  or  we'll  never 
get  thar."  And  he  addressed  the  other  outfit.  "  Can 
we  do  anything  more  for  you?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,  strangers/'  said  both  the  woman 
and  the  man.  "We  can  make  it,  now  our  wagon's 
out.  And  that  meat '11  taste  powerful  good." 

163 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Goodby,  then,"  called  the  Hee-Haws. 

"  Goodby."  And  the  woman  added.  "  Don't  for- 
get that  corner  lot." 

"  We  won't." 

The  timber  lining  the  course  of  the  various  streams 
had  shrunken,  and  the  streams  themselves  were  dwind- 
ling ever  smaller.  It  was  a  barren  country,  this,  wide 
and  sandy  and  dotted  with  occasional  thumb-like  hills 
called  buttes.  Across  it  wound  the  trail,  marked  by 
dust  and  canvas-topped  wagons. 

"  We  must  be  getting  near  the  mountains,  boys," 
called  Hi.  "  That  last  station  agent  said  we  were  only 
two  hundred  miles  from  Denver." 

"We  ought  to  see  them,  then,  pretty  soon,  I  should 
think,"  remarked  Mr.  Baxter. 

"  The  chances  are  we'll  be  looking  for  water  in- 
stead," declared  Jim.  "  The  country's  going  dry  on 
us." 

The  trail  had  swerved  in  to  the  Smoky  Hill  Fork 
again;  and  the  Smoky  Hill  Fork  itself  seemed  about 
to  quit.  It  contained  only  a  mere  trickle  of  water. 

"  You  can  follow  the  stage  route  on  west  to  the 
Big  Sandy,"  informed  a  squad  of  returning  Pike's 
Peakers,  "  or  you  can  cut  over  to  the  northward  and 
find  water  there.  It's  more  than  twenty-five  miles  to 
where  the  stage  route  strikes  the  Big  Sandy,  and  there 
isn't  any  water  even  then.  But  we  hear  tell  there's 
water  on  the  short  cut  to  the  north,  where  you  strike 
the  Big  Sandy  higher  up," 

164 


SOME  HALTS  BY  THE  WAY 

Hi  nodded  thoughtfully. 

"  All  right,"  he  said.    "  How's  the  country  north  ?  " 

"  There's  nothing  to  brag  on  anywhere  you  go  in 
this  whole  region,  stranger.  We're  bound  back  to  the 
States.  We've  had  enough.  But  if  you  try  the  short 
cut  north  watch  out  for  the  Injuns,  'Rapahoes  and 
Cheyennes  both." 

Hi  nodded  again. 

"  We  will." 

Davy  noted  Left-over's  mouth  open  and  his  eyes 
begin  to  pop.  Presently  Left-over  could  hold  in  no 
longer. 

"Lookee  here,"  he  squealed.  "Let's  quit.  Let's 
turn  around  with  those  other  fellows  and  go  home. 
I'm  tired,  and  I  don't  feel  very  well,  and  there  isn't 
anything  at  the  other  end  anyhow." 

"If  you  want  to  quit  you  can  join  the  next  party 
bound  east.  We  can  do  without  you,"  spoke  Jim. 
"  But  I'm  going  on  if  I  have  to  carry  the  mules." 

"  So  am  I,"  declared  Billy ;  and  the  others,  in- 
cluding Davy,  felt  the  same  way. 

"  I  reckon  Left-over's  afraid  of  the  Injuns,"  com- 
mented Hi. 

This  seemed  to  arouse  Left-over's  wrath. 

"  I'm  not,  either,"  he  squealed  frantically.  "  The 
Injuns  had  better  not  bother  me.  Did  you  see  the 
way  I  downed  the  big  buffalo?  That's  what  any 
Injuns'll  get  who  tackle  me.  You  fellows  don't  know 
me  when  I'm  mad.  I'm  bad  I'm  a  regular  tarrer. 

165 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

I'm  half  horse  and  half  alligator.  Those  Injuns  had 
better  keep  out  of  my  way!  " 

"  We're  mighty  glad  of  your  company,  Left-over," 
claimed  Mr.  Baxter  soberly.  "  If  I  were  you  I'd  ride 
the  trail  and  hire  out  to  emigrant  parties  to  see  them 
through  safely." 

Left-over  continued  to  bluster  as  they  marched; 
and  Billy  only  remarked  to  Davy : 

"  If  his  '  do  '  is  half  as  big  as  his  '  tell '  he  could 
lick  Wild  Bill,  couldn't  he?" 

Late  that  afternoon  Hi  pointed  to  the  north. 

"  Here's  a  chance  for  Left-over,"  he  called. 
"  We're  going  to  have  visitors !  " 

"  Injuns !  "  said  Billy  quickly,  shading  his  eyes  and 
peering.  They  all  peered — Davy,  who  was  driving, 
from  the  wagon  seat. 

A  band  of  horsemen  were  rapidly  approaching 
across  the  level  sandy  plain.  By  their  figures  and  the 
way  they  rode  Indians  they  certainly  were;  some 
twenty  of  them.  Left-over  bellowed  wildly. 

"  I  see  'em !  "  he  cried.  "  I  see  'em !  Gimme  a 
gun!  Get  behind  the  wagon!  Aren't  you  going  to 
stop?  Going  to  let  us  all  be  scalped?  " 

"Quit  your  yawp!"  bade  Hi,  roughly.  "  Dri^e 
along,  Davy.  Handle  your  guns,  boys,  so  they'll  know 
we're  ready.  Don't  let  them  think  we're  afraid.  I'll 
tend  to  them  at  the  proper  time." 

Minding  these  instructions  of  Captain  Hi,  the  Hee- 
Haw  outfit  proceeded  as  if  intent  on  their  own  busi- 

166 


SOME  HALTS  BY  THE  WAY 

ness.  Left-over  whimpered  and  showed  a  strong  dis- 
position to  climb  into  the  rear  of  the  wagon,  but  Billy 
said  sternly: 

"  None  of  that!  You  stay  outside.  Thought  you 
were  an  Injun-fighter." 

"  I  am,"  piped  Left-over.  "  I  was  going  to  pro- 
tect the  wagon." 

"Huh!  "grunted  Billy. 

Up  on  the  seat,  in  plain  sight,  driving  the  mules, 
Davy  felt  rather  alone  and  exposed;  but  he  drove 
steadily.  The  mules  were  pricking  their  long  ears 
and  showing  uneasiness. 

"  Watch  your  animals,  Dave,"  cautioned  Jim.  "  A 
mules  hates  Injuns  wuss  'n  a  rattlesnake." 

And  Davy  hung  tight. 

The  Indians  bore  down  at  full  gallop,  as  if  to  cut 
the  wagon  off.  But  at  sight  of  the  guns  in  the  hands 
of  Hi  and  Jim  and  Billy,  when  within  a  hundred  yards 
they  reined  in  sharply  and  the  leader  threw  up  his 
hand,  palm  outward.  Hi  answered  with  similar  sign. 
He  rode  forward  halfway,  so  did  the  Indian;  they  met. 

"  'Rapahoes,"  exclaimed  both  Billy  and  Jim. 

"  Regular  beggars,"  commented  the  Reverend, 
easily.  "  Hi'll  fix  them." 

Hi  and  the  Arapaho  leader  came  riding  toward  the 
wagon,  and  the  others  in  the  band  slowly  edged  closer. 
They  were  armed  mainly  with  bows  and  spears,  and 
did  not  look  very  formidable. 

"  Just  a  lot  of  rascals  out  on  a  thieving  expedition, 

167 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

picking  up  what  they  can  from  the  emigrants,"  an- 
nounced Hi.  "  But  of  course  they  claim  to  be  '  good/ 
The  chief  here'll  show  you  his  recommendations." 

The  chief  (who  was  a  villainous  appearing  old  fel- 
low, cross-eyed  and  marked  by  small-pox  and  wearing 
a  dirty  ragged  blanket)  passed  from  one  to  another 
of  the  Hee-Haw  company,  saying  "  How,  how?" 
and  shaking  hands  and  extending  a  bit  of  dingy  paper. 

When  the  paper  reached  Davy  he  read : 

"  This  Indian  is  Old  Smoke.  He'll  steal  the  tail  off  a  mule 
Watch  him  and  pass  him  along. 

"  PIKE'S  PEAKER." 

The  chief  grinned  and  grunted,  evidently  well 
pleased  with  himself  and  the  impression  that  he 
thought  he  was  making. 

"  Soog !  "  he  said  eagerly.     "  Soog !  " 

"  No  sugar,"  answered  Hi.  "  Drive  on,  Dave. 
Needn't  stop." 

But  the  old  Indian  kept  pace. 

"Tobac'.     Give  tobac'?" 

"  Nope,"  answered  Hi,  shaking  his  head.  "  Puck- 
achee!  Be  off!  Vamose!" 

"  Look  out  for  those  other  Injuns ! "  suddenly 
warned  Billy,  the  alert.  "  They're  coming  right  in !  " 

"  Don't  let  'em !  "  begged  Left-over,  excited.  "  Give 
him  some  sugar,  so  he'll  go  away.  I'll  give  him  some." 

"  No,  you  won't,"  retorted  Hi,  quickly.  "  Then 
he'll  want  something  else.  Here,  you — "  and  he  spoke 

168 


SOME  HALTS  BY  THE  WAY 

in  earnest  to  the  chief.  "  Puckachee !  "  And  Hi  waved 
his  hand  and  patted  his  yager  meaningly.  "  Get !  All 
of  you!  No  soog,  no  tobac',  nothing.  Keep  close  to 
the  wagon,  boys,"  he  warned  to  his  party,  "  and  show 
'em  we  mean  business.  Drive  the  mules  right  along, 
Dave."  He  shouted  to  the  advanced  Indians:  "  No! 
No !  "  And  facing  about  shifted  his  gun  as  for  action. 

The  chief  had  paused,  uncertain ;  and  now  his  fol- 
lowers paused.  The  Hee-Haw  wagon,  flanked  by  its 
body-guard,  with  the  mules  snorting  and  straining  but 
controlled  by  Davy,  pressed  on.  In  a  moment  the  chief 
rode  back  to  his  band,  and  all  went  cantering  away. 

"  Lucky  for  them  they  didn't  try  to  make  us 
trouble,"  boasted  Left-over,  changing  his  tune  but  still 
suspiciously  pale.  "  We'd  have  shown  'em !  " 

"  Lucky  for  us,  you  mean,"  growled  Hi.  "If  once 
those  fellows  had  got  in  amongst  us  and  started  to 
crowding  us  thar's  no  knowing  what  mightn't  have 
happened.  That's  the  mistake  lots  of  these  emigrants 
make.  They  try  to  parley  and  give  presents,  thinking 
they're  buying  the  Injuns  off;  and  fust  thing  they 
know  they're  overrun  and  helpless  and  lose  their  whole 
outfit." 

"  Were  you  scared  up  there,  Dave  ?  "  called  Billy. 

"  No.    Were  you  down  there?  "  retorted  Dave. 

"  Not  so  anybody  noticed  it,  I  hope,"  answered 
Billy. 

"Well,   one  thing's  certain,"  said  Jim.     "  We've 

169 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

got  wuss  ahead  of  us  than  Injuns,  I  reckon.    Water's 
petered  out." 

Before  their  eyes  the  shallow  head- waters  of  the 
Smoky  Hill  Fork  disappeared  abruptly,  as  if  soaking 
down  through  the  sand  of  its  bed.  Davy  checked  his 
mules  while  Hi  and  the  others  surveyed  before.  Not 
a  token  of  water  showed  beyond  or  as  far  as  they 
could  see. 

Billy  Cody  had  promptly  trudged  on  in  the  ad- 
vance ;  and  now  he  shouted  and  waved. 

"  Trail  forks,"  he  reported.  "  One  fork  keeps  on, 
other  turns  off  to  the  right." 

"  We'll  follow  that  right  fork  as  far  as  we  can 
before  dark,"  quoth  Hi.  "How's  the  water  bar'l? 
Fill  her  up." 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Baxter  sprang  to  the  river  bed 
and  with  the  camp  spade  dug  vigorously.  The  others 
took  pails  and  pans  and  kettles  and  carried  water,  as 
fast  as  the  hole  supplied  it,  to  the  big  cask  that,  slung 
fast  at  the  rear  of  the  wagon,  formed  part  of  the  trail 
kit. 

It  was  slow  work  filling  this  cask  through  the 
bung-hole,  but  Hi  kept  them  at  it  until  the  cask  was 
well-nigh  running  over.  By  this  time  dusk  was  set- 
tling, and  with  a  shrewd  glance  about  at  the  landscape 
Captain  Hi  said : 

"  Unspan,  boys.  We  might  as  well  camp  right 
hyar.  But  it's  mighty  poor  grazing  for  the  mules,  I 
tell  you!" 

170 


XII 
PERILS  FOR  THE  HEE-HAWS 


MANY  emigrants  had  camped  here,  evidently.  The 
grass  had  been  eaten  off  for  several  acres  around,  and 
Davy  roamed  in  a  circle  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  before 
he  had  gleaned  enough  buffalo  chips  for  the  supper  fire. 

"  Better  get  enough  for  breakfast,  too,  Dave," 
warned  Mr.  Baxter,  the  cook,  with  a  weather-wise 
eye  cocked  at  the  horizon.  "Hear  the  thunder? 
We're  liable  to  be  soaked  and  so  will  the  chips." 

"  Buffalo  chips  when  dry  were  fine,  quick,  hot  fuel ; 
but  when  wet  they  were  hopeless,  like  soggy  paste- 
board. Mr.  Baxter's  warning  had  been  well  founded, 
for  the  air  was  heavy  and  warmish,  and  from  some 
distant  point  echoed  the  rumble  of  a  storm. 

Up  to  this  time  the  journey  from  Leaven  worth  had 
been  very  comfortable  as  to  weather,  with  sunny  days 
and  occasional  little  rains.  But,  according  to  Billy  and 
all,  some  of  these  plains  storms  were  regular  "  tail 
twisters "  and  "  stem  winders,"  drowning  even  the 
prairie-dogs  out  of  their  holes! 

"  Left-over's  first  on  guard  to-night,"  directed 
Captain  Hi.  "We  must  keep  eye  and  ear  open  for 
those  Injuns.  They  may  sneak  up  and  run  off  our 
mules." 

171 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  They'd  better  not  try  it  when  I'm  on  guard," 
blustered  Left-over,  in  his  funny  squeak.  "  You'll 
lemme  have  your  gun,  won't  you,  Jim  ?  " 

"  Not  much !  "  rapped  Jim.  "  I  may  want  that  gun 
myself.  Take  one  of  Billy's.  Let  him  have  your 
yager,  Billy.  What  have  you  got  in  it?  " 

"  A  bullet  and  three  buckshot  I  loaded  her  for 
Injuns." 

"  That's  right.  Left-over  can  do  a  toler'ble  lot  of 
shooting  with  that  load." 

Pleased,  Left-over  took  the  gun  and  posted  him- 
self just  outside  the  firelight,  where  he  could  oversee 
camp  and  mules  (now  tethered  near)  and  any  prowling 
figures  approaching.  The  night  settled  black  and  thick, 
with  the  stars  faintly  twinkling  through  a  haze;  but 
wrapped  in  his  blanket  beside  Billy,  Dave  soon  fell 
asleep. 

He  was  awakened  by  a  loud  bang,  and  a  louder 
howl  from  Left-over,  who  seemed  to  be  stepping  on 
everybody  at  once. 

"Injuns!  I'm  killed!  Help!  Murder!  Wake 
up !  Why  don't  you  wake  ?  Help !  Murder !  Injuns ! 
Injuns  I " 

Before  Davy  had  collected  his  own  wits  and  was 
out  from  the  blanket  Billy  had  sprung  up  like  a  deer ; 
with  the  one  motion  he  was  on  his  feet,  free  of  the 
blanket,  revolver  in  hand,  ready  to  obey  Captain  Hi's 
sharp  voice. 

"Shut    up!    (to   Left-over,    who    was    cavorting 

172 


PERILS  FOR  THE  HEE-HAWS 

around  like  whale  in  a  flurry).  Lie  low,  boys!  Over 
here,  together,  away  from  the  fire.  Where  are  they, 
Left-over?  What's  the  matter?  What'd  you  see?" 

"I'm  killed,"  wailed  Left-over.  "The  whole 
country's  full  of  Injuns — 'Rapahoes.  I  shot  into 
'em  when  they  were  sneaking  up,  and  then  they  shot 
me  through  the  head.  It  all  happened  at  once.  But 
I  saved  the  mules.  I  gave  my  life  for  'em,  and  you- 
all."  And  Left-over  groaned  vigorously. 

Half  deafened  by  the  wails  of  Left-over,  Davy  had 
been  listening  hard  for  Indian  whoop  or  rustle,  and 
peering  for  shadowy  forms.  But  he  heard  only  the 
breathing  of  his  companions  and  the  grunty  sighs  of 
the  aroused  mules.  Not  a  figure,  except  those  of  the 
shadowy  mules,  just  visible  against  the  sky-line,  could 
be  descried. 

"  Aw,  shucks !  "  grumbled  Billy,  suddenly,  breaking 
the  suspense.  And  standing  boldly,  he  strode  to  the 
smouldering  camp-fire  and  thrust  a  bit  of  paper  into 
the  live  ashe^.  He  made  a  plain  target,  but  he  did 
not  seem  to  ca^e,  and  waited  for  the  paper  to  flare. 

In  the  flare  they  all  stared  around ;  the  mules  were 
the  first  things  rated — but  Mr.  Baxter  exclaimed: 

"Look  at  Left-over!  By  jiminy,  he  is  wounded! 
Start  that  fire  more  or  make  a  torch  so  we  can  see. 
Wait  a  minute,  Left-over." 

Left-over  certainly  presented  an  alarming  sight. 
His  face  was  welling  blood,  which  streamed  down  upon 
his  chest.  His  eyes  rolled  and  he  groaned  dismally. 

173 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

As  Billy  made  another  flare,  Jim,  nearest  to  Left- 
over, hastily  examined,  with  eyes  and  deft  fingers, 
Left-over  groaning  now  terribly. 

"  Don't  find  anything — there  ain't  any  new  hole ; 
mostly  mouth,"  Jim  reported.  "  Can't  you  hold  your 
yawp,  Left-over,  long  enough  to  tell  us  what  happened 
to  you?" 

"  I  saw  the  Injuns  sneaking  up  and  we  all  shot  at 
the  same  time,  and  I  killed  them  and  they  killed  me," 
sobbed  Left-over.  "If  you  don't  believe  me  go  out 
and  look." 

"  I  know,"  quoth  Billy  Cody.  "  That  gun  kicked 
him  in  the  face  and  plumb  broke  his  nose!  She  was 
loaded  to  do  business." 

"  Huh !  "  grunted  Left-over,  venturing  to  sit  up 
and  feel  of  his  face. 

"If  you  fellows'll  watch  I'll  scout  around  a  bit 
and  see  what's  what  outside,"  proffered  Billy.  "  I 
keep  seeing  something  lying  out  yonder.  Shouldn't 
wonder  if  Left-over  did  kill  an  Injun." 

The  lightning  was  fitful  but  incessant;  its  pallid 
flashes  played  over  the  landscape — momentarily  re- 
vealing the  drooping  mules,  the  spots  of  sage,  the 
wagon,  the  faces  on  Davy's  right  and  left,  and  (as 
seemed  to  Davy)  exposing,  for  a  brief  instance,  a  dark 
mass  lying  farther  out  on  the  prairie. 

"  Well "  began  Captain  Hi ;  but  he  was  inter- 
rupted. As  if  borne  on  the  wings  of  a  sudden  cool  gust 
from  the  west  there  came  fresh  blare  of  thunder  and 

174 


PERILS  FOR  THE  HEE-HAWS 

glare  of  lightning.  Peal  succeeded  peal,  flash  succeeded 
flash,  with  scarce  an  interval.  Hi's  voice  rang  sternly. 

"  Billy,  you  and  Dave  see  to  those  mules,  quick, 
or  they'll  stampede.  The  rest  of  you  pitch  what  stuff 
you  can  into  the  wagon  and  stretch  guy-ropes  to  hold 
her  down.  This  is  an  old  rip-snorter  of  a  storm,  and 
it's  coming  with  its  head  down  and  tail  up !  " 

Nobody  paused  to  question  or  debate.  The  storm 
seemed  right  upon  them.  Following  Billy,  Dave 
leaped  for  the  mules. 

"  Tie  'em  to  the  wagon  wheels,"  yelled  Billy,  in 
the  pale  glare  tugging  at  a  picket  pin. 

He  and  Davy  hauled  the  mules  along  to  the  wagon, 
where  Hi  and  Jim,  Mr.  Baxter  and  even  the  gory  Left- 
over were  hustling  frantically  to  put  things  under  cover 
and  make  the  wagon  fast  with  guy-ropes  stretched  taut 
over  the  top. 

But  the  storm  scarcely  waited.  The  bellow  of  the 
thunder  and  the  fierce  play  of  the  lightning  increased. 
There  was  a  pause,  a  patter,  a  swift  gust;  and  rushing 
out  of  the  inky  night  charged  the  rain. 

Rain?  Sheets  of  it !  Blinding,  drenching  sheets  of 
it,  driven  by  gust  after  gust,  and  riven  by  peal  after 
peal,  glare  after  glare. 

"  Hang  to  the  wagon,  everybody ! "  shouted  Cap- 
tain Hi ;  and  Davy,  hanging  hard,  could  see,  amidst  the 
cataract  of  water,  his  partners  also  hanging  hard  to 
guy-ropes  and  wagon-sheet  corners.  The  mules  stood 

175 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

drooped  and  huddled,  their  ears  flat  and  their  tails 
turned  to  the  storm. 

Never  had  there  been  such  lightning,  never  such 
thunder,  never  such  rain!  All  in  a  moment,  as  it 
seemed  to  Davy,  he  was  soaked  through  and  through, 
and  the  ground  under  him  was  running  with  water  an 
inch  deep.  The  wagon  top  bellied  and  slapped  and 
jerked,  and  every  instant  was  threatening  to  tear  loose 
and  sail  away,  or  else  lift  the  wagon  and  all  with  it. 

"  Hurrah !  "  yelled  Billy  gaily,  braced  and  panting, 
as  he  tried  to  anchor  his  corner.  Nothing  daunted 
Billy  Cody.  "  Now  we've  got  water  a-plenty !  " 

As  suddenly  as  it  had  arrived  the  bulk  of  the  storm 
departed,  leaving  only  a  drizzle,  and  a  very  wet  world. 
The  Hee-Haw  party  might  release  their  grip  on  the 
wagon,  and  take  stock.  The  rain  had  driven  through 
the  canvas  top  into  the  bedding  and  other  stuff,  and 
the  rest  of  the  night  bid  fair  to  be  rather  uncom- 
fortable. 

"  What  are  we  going  to  do  now?  "  whined  Left- 
over. 

"  Do  the  best  we  can/'  answered  Captain  Hi. 
"  Stand  up  or  lie  down,  whichever  you  please,  till 
morning." 

"  Aren't  you  going  out  to  look  at  my  Injun?  " 

"  He'll  keep.  We've  got  enough  to  tend  to  right 
hyar." 

Mr.  Baxter  lighted  the  lantern,  and  they  overhauled 
the  bedding. 

176 


PERILS  FOR  THE  HEE-HAWS 

"  Come  on,  Davy,"  quoth  Billy.  "  I'm  going  to 
sleep.  Crawl  in  and  we'll  shiver  ourselves  warm." 

Billy's  buffalo  robe  was  spread  down  on  a  spot 
where  the  rain  already  had  soaked  into  the  sandy  soil, 
and  snuggled  beside  him,  under  a  blanket,  dressed  just 
as  he  was,  Dave  soon  found  himself  growing  warm. 

"  'Twon't  hurt  us  any,"  murmured  Billy.  "  I've 
been  wet  this  way  many  a  time  before.  If  we  don't 
change  our  clothes  we  won't  catch  cold." 

That  was  fortunate,  for  they  had  no  clothes  to 
change  to! 

When  Dave  awakened,  the  sun  was  almost  up ;  h« 
was  nearly  dry,  and  had  not  been  uncomfortable,  after 
all.  The  Reverend  Mr.  Baxter  was  trying  to  start  a 
fire  with  bits  of  wood  from  some  of  the  boxes  in  the 
wagon,  and  to  dry  out  a  few  buffalo  chips.  Left-over 
was  snoring  lustily,  but  the  rest  of  the  camp  was  turn- 
ing out.  Billy,  who  was  sitting  up,  gazing  about, 
whooped  joyously. 

"Look  at  Left-over's  Injun!"  he  cried,  pointing. 
Out  he  sprang  and  hustled  across  the  plain.  The  camp 
began  to  laugh — all  but  Davy,  who  stared,  blinking, 
and  Left-over,  who  stirred,  half  aroused. 

At  the  dark  spot,  which  was  Left-over's  Indian, 
Billy  stopped;  he  waved  his  hand  and  cheered,  and 
came  back,  dragging  the  thing  As  he  drew  near, 
Davy  saw  what  the  others  had  seen.  The  Indian  was 
a  big  calf! 

12  177 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Shot  it  plumb  through  the  head ! "  yelped  Billy. 
"'Rah  for  Left-over!" 

"What  is  it?  What's  the  matter?"  stammered 
Left-over,  struggling  to  sit  up,  while  he  blinked,  red- 
eyed. 

"  Better  take  his  tail  for  your  scalp,  Left-over," 
bade  Jim.  "  It's  a  pity  we  don't  need  meat,  but  you 
can  butcher  him  if  you  want  to." 

Not  for  some  weeks  did  the  Hee-Haw  outfit  get 
done  teasing  Left-over  about  his  "  Injuns." 

"  Anyway,"  soothed  Mr.  Baxter,  "  you  made  a 
good  shot.  Nobody  can  deny  you  that." 

"Huh!"  agreed  Left-over,  swelling  importantly. 
"  I  knew  it  was  something,  and  I  drew  bead  and  whaled 
away." 

"  Purty  good  to  draw  bead  in  the  dark,"  remarked 
Captain  Hi.  "  Left-over  must  have  eyes  like  a  cat !  " 

They  ate  a  rather  scant  breakfast,  mostly  cold ;  and 
leaving  the  luckless  calf  (which  must  have  wandered 
from  some  emigrant  party)  minus  a  few  steaks,  they 
turned  northwest  on  the  cut-off  to  the  next  water. 
The  stage  route  went  straight  on,  over  a  bare  plateau ; 
but  a  number  of  emigrants  evidently  had  been  turning 
off  here  on  a  trail  of  their  own. 

So  sandy  was  the  soil  and  so  hot  the  sun  that  very 
soon  the  ground  was  as  dry  as  before,  and  Billy's 
boast  of  "  plenty  water  "  failed  to  make  good. 

About  the  middle  of  the  morning  they  passed  an 
emigrant  train  of  a  large  party  still  recovering  from 

178 


PERILS  FOR  THE  HEE-HAWS 

the  storm.  Wagons  had  been  capsized,  tents  torn  up 
bodily,  and  equipage  scattered  far  and  wide.  One 
wagon  had  been  carried  away  completely. 

"  How  far  to  the  mountains,  strangers?  "  queried 
one  of  the  emigrants.  It  was  the  same  old  question. 
All  the  Pike's  Peak  travellers  appeared  to  have  the  one 
thing  in  mind — the  mountains. 

"  Follow  us  and  you'll  get  thar,"  replied  Captain 
Hi.  "  What  do  you  know  about  this  cut-off?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all,  stranger.  There  looked  as  if 
somebody  had  gone  up  this  way,  so  we  came  too." 

"  It's  a  terrible  dry  road,  though,"  sighed  a  woman. 
"  Maybe  if  we'd  have  kept  on  west  we'd  have  done 
better." 

"  Well,  by  jimmy ! "  said  Hi,  as  the  Hee-Haws 
toiled  on.  "I  sort  of  think  so,  myself.  This  trail 
doesn't  look  good  to  me;  not  a  little  bit." 

"  Shall  we  turn  back  ?  "  proposed  Mr.  Baxter. 

"  I  hate  to  turn  back,"  spoke  Billy  promptly.  "  I 
like  to  keep  a-going." 

"  Oh,  we  might  as  well  go  on,"  added  Jim.  "  I 
hate  to  back  track,  too.  But  there  aren't  many  emi- 
grants on  this  trail,  that's  certain." 

"  The  trouble  is  they'll  follow  like  sheep,"  asserted 
the  Reverend.  "If  this  cut-off  is  no  good  somebody 
ought  to  put  a  sign  on  it." 

Hotter  and  hotter  grew  the  day.  The  trail,  which 
was  not  so  large  after  the  emigrant  party  had  been 
passed,  wound  among  blistering  sand-hills,  and  soon 

179 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

the  mules  were  plodding  doggedly,  with  tongues  out, 
hides  lathering.  They  guided  themselves,  for  the  Rev- 
erend, whose  turn  it  was  to  drive,  had  mercy  on  them 
and  walked.  That  night  at  camp  he  uttered  a  sudden 
exclamation. 

"  Water's  more  than  half  gone,  boys,"  he  an- 
nounced. "  Either  this  keg  leaks  or  the  air  drinks 
faster  than  we  do." 

"  We'll  have  to  be  easy  on  water,  then,"  ordered 
Captain  Hi.  And  they  all  went  to  bed  thirsty. 

Davy  had  a  miserable  night,  and  probably  the  rest 
did,  too,  although  nobody  except  Left-over  said  any- 
thing. The  mules  started  out  stiffly.  But  Mr.  Baxter 
suddenly  shouted,  in  a  queer  wheeze,  pointing: 

"  Cheer  up,  fellows !  There's  either  a  cloud  or  a 
mountain — see?  " 

They  peered.  Away  in  the  west,  just  touched  by 
the  first  rays  of  the  sun,  peeped  over  the  rolling  desert, 
at  the  horizon  edge,  a  vague  outline  that  did  look  like 
the  tip  of  a  cloud. 

"  There's  another !  "  cried  Billy,  pointing  further 
to  the  north.  "If  those  are  mountains  I  reckon  this 
one  is  Long's  Peak;  maybe  that  other  is  Pike's  Peak." 

Davy  gazed  constantly  at  the  two  vague,  cloudlike 
breaks  in  the  line  of  horizon  and  sky.  As  the  sun  rose 
higher  they  seemed  to  grow  whiter;  but  they  did  not 
move.  They  must  be  mountains,  then;  and  oh,  so 
far  away!  Occasionally,  as  the  wagon  labored  over  a 
swell  in  the  desert,  Davy  thought  that  he  could  descry 

180 


PERILS  FOR  THE  HEE-HAWS 

other  mountains  in  an  irregular  ridge  connecting  the 
tip  in  the  north  with  the  tip  at  the  south.  However, 
as  the  sun  shone  fiercer  the  whole  sandy  plain  quivered 
with  the  heat  rays  and  the  horizon  blurred.  Nobody 
seemed  to  care  about  the  mountains  now;  the  main 
thought  was  getting  through  to  water. 

The  trail  was  almost  drifted  over  by  sand;  the 
Hee-Haw  party  appeared  to  be  the  only  party  travel- 
ling it.  That  was  discouraging.  The  mules  scarcely 
moved.  At  noon  they  were  given  a  little  drink  out  of 
Hi's  hat,  for  the  wooden  bucket  had  warped  and  leaked 
like  a  sieve.  Davy  never  had  been  so  thirsty  in  all  his 
life,  and  Left-over  had  to  be  forced  back  by  main 
strength  from  the  nearly  empty  cask.  That  night, 
camped  in  a  dry  watercourse,  where  they  dug  and  dug 
without  finding  any  moisture,  they  used  the  last  of 
their  water  for  coffee. 

"  It's  make  or  break,  to-morrow,  boys,"  said  Cap- 
tain Hi.  "  We'll  start  as  early  as  we  can  see,  and 
push  right  through.  Ought  to  strike  water  soon.  The 
nearer  we  get  to  the  mountains  the  better  the  chance 
for  water  from  them." 

Sunrise  of  the  third  day  caught  them  plodding 
ahead,  the  poor  mules  groaning  and  wheezing,  the 
wagon  rolling  sluggishly,  and  Davy,  like  the  rest,  with 
mouth  open  and  tongue  bone  dry,  in  the  wake.  The 
cloud  things  in  the  horizon  had  remained  stationary; 
some  of  them  were  whitish,  some  purplish;  and  moun- 
tains they  certainly  were! 

181 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

About  ten  o'clock  Billy  cried  out  thickly. 

"  Water,  fellows !  Look  at  those  mules'  ears ! 
They  smell  it!" 

1  'Pears  like  a  creek  yonder,  sure,"  mumbled  Cap- 
tain Hi.  "  Don't  be  disappointed,  though,  if  it's  an- 
other mirage."  For  they  had  been  fooled  several  times 
by  the  heat  waves  picturing  water. 

"  Those  mules  smell  water,  just  the  same,  I  bet 
you,"  insisted  Billy. 

Far  in  the  distance  shimmered  now  a  thin  fringe  of 
green.  The  mules  actually  increased  their  pace;  they 
broke  into  a  labored  trot ;  and  shambling  heavily  behind 
the  outfit  pressed  on.  Left-over  groaned  and  dropped, 
to  lie  and  moan  dismally. 

"  I'm  dying,"  he  wheezed.  "  I  can't  move  a  step. 
Are  you  fellows  going  on  and  leave  me?  " 

There  was  no  holding  the  mules.  As  they  forged 
along  Billy  exclaimed  quickly : 

"  Wait  here,  Left-over.  Go  ahead,  fellows.  I'll 
fetch  him  back  a  drink." 

And  seizing  the  coffee-pot  he  sturdily  ran  and 
stumbled  to  the  fore.  All  hastened  after  him,  rivalling 
the  frantic  mules,  but  he  beat. 

Water  it  was!  When  they  approached  it  did  not 
vanish  as  a  mirage  would ;  and  they  met  Billy  return- 
ing with  coffee-pot  actually  dripping  as  its  precious 
contents  slopped  over. 

Davy  felt  a  strong  impulse  to  halt  Billy,  wrest  the 
pot  from  him,  and  drink  long  and  deep.  But  of 

182 


PERILS  FOR  THE  HEE-HAWS 

Bourse  this  was  only  a  thought.    Puffing,  Billy  passed. 

"  There's  plenty  water  waiting  you/'  he  an- 
nounced. "  I'll  bring  Left-over  on  after  he's  had  his 
drink." 

Yes,  water  it  was  —  a  real  stream  flowing  crooked 
and  shallow  in  a  deep  bed  bordered  by  brush  and  wil- 
lows. The  trail  led  to  a  ford.  Wagon  and  all,  the 
mules  fairly  plunged  in,  and  burying  their  noses  to 
their  eyes  gulped  and  gulped.  First  Jim,  then  in  quick 
succession  Davy  and  Captain  Hi  and  Mr.  Baxter  (who 
was  the  last  of  all)  imitated  the  mules.  Whew,  but 
that  drink  was  a  good  long  one!  It  seemed  to  Davy, 
as  he  sucked  again  and  again,  that  he  simply  could  not 
swallow  fast  enough. 

"  Some  head  stream  or  other,  I  reckon/'  finally 
spoke  Captain  Hi.  "  Shouldn't  wonder  if  we  had 
water  now  all  the  way  in.  We're  getting  where  the 
drainage  from  the  mountains  begins  to  cut  some 


Billy  arrived  with  Left-over.  They  spent  the  rest 
of  the  day  beside  the  welcome  stream  ;  and  by  morning 
they  left  about  as  strong  as  ever. 

The  trail  that  they  were  following  now  crossed  at 
least  one  stream  a  day,  so  that  the  water  cask  was  kept 
filled.  The  buffalo  jerky  had  been  eaten  or  was  not 
eatable;  but  antelope  and  black-tail  deer  were  abun- 
dant. So  the  trail  proved  pleasant.  Captain  Hi  called 
attention  to  the  fact  that  the  water  was  growing  colder 
to  the  taste  ;  and  he  said  that  the  snow  mountains  must 

188 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

therefore  be  nearer.  Indeed,  the  mountains  were 
nearer;  they  lined  the  whole  western  horizon,  and 
made  a  humpy,  dark  ridge  extending  from  straight 
ahead  far  up  into  the  north.  A  haze  like  to  a  fog  veiled 
them  much  of  the  time,  and  the  Hee-Haw  party  were 
always  expecting  a  better  view. 

Anyway,  there  were  the  Rocky  Mountains  in  sight; 
and  little  by  little  the  trail  was  approaching  them. 
Yet  it  was  a  long,  long  trail,  and  who  would  have  im- 
agined that  the  plains  were  so  broad  from  Leavenworth 
to  the  diggin's ! 

However,  one  morning  a  surprise  occurred.  The 
trail  had  been  threading  a  little  divide  which  evidently 
separated  one  stream  from  another.  A  few  pines  were 
growing  on  it.  They  smelled  good.  When  the  mules 
had  tugged  the  wagon  over  the  last  rise  and  were  de- 
scending a  splendid  spectacle  unfolded  to  the  eyes  of 
the  Hee-Haws.  Involuntarily  they  cheered — hooray! 
and  again  hooray!  For  right  before  them  was  the 
main  trail  once  more,  with  the  wagons  of  emigrants 
whitening  it  and  with  a  stage  dashing  along. 

Down  hastened  the  Hee-Haws,  even  the  mules 
being  glad  of  company. 

"  Hooray  for  Cherry  Creek  and  the  diggin's, 
strangers ! "  was  the  greeting,  as  the  Hee-Haw  party 
entered  at  a  break  in  the  toiling  procession. 

"  How  much  further,  lads  ?  "  asked  Captain  Hi. 

"Whar?" 

"To  the  mountains?" 

184 


PERILS  FOR  THE  HEE-HAWS 

"  Seventy  miles  to  the  diggin's,  we  hear  tell.  This 
is  the  head  o'  Cherry  Creek,  hyar;  and  as  soon  as  the 
fog  lifts  you'll  see  what  you're  looking  for,  I  reckon." 

The  fog,  which  had  cloaked  the  horizon  since  sun- 
rise, already  was  thinning ;  and  staring,  the  Hee-Haws 
waited  the  result. 

"I  see  them !  "  cried  Jim,  waving  his  battered  hat. 

"Where,  Jim?" 

"  Yonder,  straight  in  front." 

"  So  do  I !  "  yelped  Billy.  "  There's  Long's  Peak- 
that  big  peak  up  at  the  north  end.  I've  seen  him  from 
the  Overland  Trail.  Look  at  the  snow,  will  you !  " 

"  Isn't  it  wonderful !  "  breathed  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Baxter,  in  awed  tone. 

And  it  was.  Almost  halting,  spell-bound,  they 
gazed.  As  the  fog  broke  and  melted  away  it  exposed 
a  mighty  barrier,  extending  in  a  vast  sweep  from  the 
right  to  the  left — two  hundred  miles  of  mountains, 
the  front  range  soft  and  purplish,  the  back  range  daz- 
zling white  with  snow.  The  rugged  plains,  brushy  and 
somewhat  timbered,  and  lighter  green  where  mean- 
dered Cherry  Creek,  reached  to  their  very  base. 

"  Where's  Pike's  Peak?  "  demanded  Left-over. 

''  That  lone  peak  at  our  end,  stranger,"  informed 
an  emigrant. 

Round  and  bulky  and  snow  covered,  standing  out 
by  himself,  like  an  exclamation-point  completing  the 
range,  Pike's  Peak  seemed  the  biggest  peak  of  all. 

"That's  not  far.     Tisn't  more  than  ten  miles!" 

135 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

declared  Left-over.  "  Come  on !  Let's  go  and  climb 
it.  Get  out  your  picks,  fellows !  Don't  you  see  a  kind 
of  yellow  patch?  That's  gold,  I  bet  you." 

"  Keep  cool,  young  man/'  warned  the  emigrant. 

"  You  try  to  walk  it  before  night  and  you'll  find  out 

how  far  that  peak  is.    More  than  fifty  miles,  I  reckon." 

"  It    looks  powerful   cold   up   yon,"    quavered   a 

woman.    "  They  do  say  the  snow  never  melts  off." 

The  trail  was  now  much  more  interesting.  Some 
of  the  emigrants  had  come  out,  like  the  Hee-Haws, 
over  the  Smoky  Hill  Fork  Trail,  and  the  others  were 
from  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  up  the  Arkansas  River,  to 
the  south.  A  trail  along  the  base  of  the  mountains  con- 
nected this  with  Smoky  Hill  Trail.  Soon  the  trail  by 
way  of  Republican  River  joined  in.  The  triple  travel 
on  Cherry  Creek  Trail  was  now  so  thick  that  Davy 
again  wondered  where  all  the  people  were  coming  from. 

The  marvellous  panorama  of  the  Rockies  remained 
ever  in  sight  before.  Nobody  tired  of  gazing  at  it, 
wondering  which  of  the  peaks,  besides  Pike's  Peak, 
were  inlaid  with  gold  and  if  a  fellow  could  live  on  top 
of  Pike's  Peak  or  back  yonder  among  those  other  peaks 
while  getting  out  his  fortune.  Some  of  the  emigrants 
(Left-over  included)  asserted  loudly  that  they  could 
see  the  gold  shining ! 

However,  the  first  sight  of  the  Pike's  Peak  settle- 
ments— Denver  and  Auraria — began  to  be  watched  for 
the  most  eagerly.  The  mountains  gradually  drew 
nearer,  Pike's  Peak  gradually  fell  behind  until  on  the 

186 


PERILS  FOR  THE  HEE-HAWS 

afternoon  of  the  third  day,  down  the  winding,  white- 
topped  procession  swept  a  glad  cry.  Whips  were  flour- 
ished, sun-bonnets  were  waved,  hats  were  swung ;  men 
and  women  cheered,  children  shouted,  dogs  barked. 

"  The  Cherry  Creek  diggin's !  There  they  are ! 
There  are  the  gold  fields  and  the  pound  a  day !  " 

People  seemed  to  forget  the  bad  reports  spread  by 
the  disgruntled  emigrants  bound  back  to  the  States. 
Hopes  were  again  high  for  success  and  fortune  at  the 
end  of  the  long,  long  trail. 

Sure  enough,  several  miles  before,  in  a  basin  set 
out  from  the  mountains  a  short  distance,  were  a  col- 
lection of  wagons  and  tents  and  other  canvases,  and 
a  number  of  cabins,  also,  jumbled  together  on  both 
sides  of  the  creek,  apparently,  and  bounded  before  by 
a  wooded  river.  At  the  edges  was  a  fringe  of  little 
camps  like  those  of  emigrants  stopping  by  the  way. 

Evening  was  nigh ;  the  sun  was  low  over  the  snowy 
range ;  smoke  was  curling  from  camp-fire  and  chimney. 

"  We  won't  make  it  to-day,  fellows/'  spoke  Captain 
Hi.  "  But  we'll  pull  in  the  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

"  Goodness !  Look  at  the  people  pouring  in  by  the 
northern  trail,  too !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Baxter. 

For  glinting  in  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  a  long  wagon 
train  of  emigrants,  resembling  crawling  white  beads, 
was  heading  in  from  the  opposite  direction. 

"That's  the  cut-off  down  from  the  Salt  Lake 
Overland  Trail  up  the  Platte,"  quoth  Billy,  promptly. 
"  The  bull  trains  travel  that  trail." 

187 


XIII 

THE  CHERRY  CREEK  DIGGIN'S 


WITH  so  many  people  making  for  Cherry  Creek 
over  several  trails  it  seemed  a  pity  to  waste  a  night  by 
camping.  But  when  darkness  settled  the  trail  was 
ablaze  with  the  camp-fires  of  the  emigrants  who,  like 
the  Hee-Haw  outfit,  had  halted  until  dawn.  A  fat 
blinked  the  lights  of  the  "  Pike's  Peak  settlements  " ; 
and  miles  distant,  north  across  the  plain,  were  the 
bright  dots  betokening  the  camps  of  those  emigrants 
entering  by  the  Salt  Lake  Overland  Trail. 

The  whole  procession  was  early  astir  with  the 
dawn;  even  Left-over  was  up  as  soon  as  anybody, 
eager  to  be  digging  out  his  pound  of  gold  a  day. 

The  trail  down  Cherry  Creek  was  six  inches  deep 
with  dust,  ground  to  powder  by  the  constant  wheels 
and  hoofs.  In  a  great  cloud  it  rose  as  the  wagons  and 
animals  and  persons  ploughed  through  it ;  to  the  north 
lifted  other  dust  lines,  where  the  rival  travel  likewise 
pressed  forward  to  the  goal.  It  was  an  inspiring  scene, 
almost  as  good  as  a  race ;  but  Left-over  grumbled : 

"  I  don't  call  this  Pike's  Peak,"  he  said.  "  And 
where's  Denver  City?  I  don't  see  any  city." 

"  City  or  not,"  remarked  the  Reverend  Mr.  Baxter, 

188 


THE  CHERRY  CREEK  DIGGIN'S 

"  it's  a  wonderful  thing,  Davy — all  these  people,  from 
all  over  the  United  States,  setting  out  overland,  break- 
ing new  trails,  and  founding  a  town  away  out  here,  six 
hundred  miles  across  the  desert,  at  the  foot  of  those 
snowy  mountains!  It's  taken  a  lot  of  pluck  and  a  lot 
of  trust  in  Providence." 

"  Where  do  you  calculate  on  stopping,  boys  ? " 
queried  a  black-eyed,  sharp-nosed  man  who  was  riding 
down  along  the  column. 

"  I  don't  know/'  drawled  Captain  Hi.  "  What's 
the  difference  ?  " 

"  All  the  difference  in  the  world.  Throw  in  with 
Auraria.  She's  on  the  mountain  side  of  the  Creek, 
and  she's  bound  to  be  the  biggest  city  west  of  Omaha. 
We've  got  the  buildings,  the  people,  and  the  ferry 
across  the  Platte  River.  Remember  that.  Don't  let 
these  Denver  boomers  fool  you.  Stop  at  Auraria  and 
we'll  treat  you  right." 

And  he  rode  on  down  the  line  talking  about 
"  Auraria." 

But  he  was  close  followed  by  another  man — a 
fatty,  red- faced  man. 

"  Keep  right  on  down  the  east  side  of  the  creek  to 
Denver  City,"  he  proclaimed.  "  The  travelled  side, 
the  side  next  to  the  States.  Buy  a  town  lot  in  Denver ; 
it'll  be  a  nest-egg  for  you  while  you're  at  the  diggings. 
Denver,  Denver,  Denver !  Remember  the  east  side  of 
the  creek." 

189 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

And  he,  also,  proceeded  on,  chanting  the  praises  of 
"  Denver  City."  The  Reverend  Mr.  Baxter  laughed. 

Before  they  reached  the  settlement  district  the  trail 
forked.  A  large  sign,  pointing  to  the  left-hand  fork, 
said :  "  AURARIA.  Direct  Route  to  the  Gold  Fields." 
Another  sign,  pointing  before,  said :  "  Straight  Ahead 
for  DENVER  CITY.  Nearest  and  Best." 

"  Which  will  it  be,  boys?  "  queried  Captain  Hi. 

"  Let's  try  Denver.  It's  on  this  side  of  the  creek 
and  it's  named  for  the  governor  of  Kansas,"  spoke 
Mr.  Baxter. 

So  they  continued  on  down  to  Denver  City. 
Denver  and  Auraria  were  separated  by  only  the  almost 
dry  channels  of  Cherry  Creek,  and  both  extended  along 
it  nearly  to  the  Platte  River  below,  into  which  Cherry 
Creek  emptied.  As  soon  as  the  Hee-Haw  party  had 
pitched  their  camp  on  the  outskirts  of  Denver,  they 
hastened  about  their  business.  Davy  and  Mr.  Baxter 
paired  off  to  wander  about.  Billy  and  Hi  and  Jim 
undertook  some  errands.  Left-over  was  wild  to  grab 
shovel  and  pick  and  pan  and  start  right  in  digging  and 
washing. 

Many  persons,  in  plain  sight  all  up  and  down  the 
creek  bed,  were  working  hard  panning  for  gold.  Some 
of  the  emigrants  had  begun  almost  before  they  had 
unharnessed  their  teams.  And  yonder,  northwest, 
glimpses  of  the  Platte  River,  flowing  past  both  Denver 
and  Auraria,  gave  glimpses  also  of  other  miners 
delving  away. 

190 


THE  CHERRY  CREEK  BIGGIN'S 

Billy  walked  straight  to  the  nearest  group  in  the 
creek  bed. 

"  How  are  you  making  it,  pardner  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Have  you  fellows  come  for  your  pound  a  day, 
too?  "  asked  the  man.  Even  his  wife  was  wielding  a 
dish-pan  while  he  shovelled. 

"  You  bet,"  assured  Billy. 

The  woman  paused,  and  the  man  laughed  wearily 
and  wiped  his  forehead. 

"  You'll  be  lucky  if  you  make  fifty  cents,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  quavered  the  woman.  "  It's  awful  poor 
picking  along  this  creek.  I  expect  we're  all  going  to 
starve,  provisions  are  getting  so  high." 

"Where  are  the  diggin's,  then?" 

"  Yonder,  up  in  the  mountains,  stranger.  We  hear 
tell  they've  made  a  big  strike  there.  We're  going  on 
as  soon  as  we  can  travel.  But  our  oxen  are  about 
petered  out." 

"How  far's  Pike's  Peak?"  demanded  Left-over. 
"  Where's  the  Pike's  Peak  country?  Why  don't  you 
goto  Pike's  Peak?" 

"  That's  Pike's  Peak  down  south,  seventy-five 
miles,"  answered  the  man.  "  They  call  this  the  Pike's 
Peak  country,  but  it's  only  a  name.  I  reckon  you've 
heard  of  them  sliding  down  Pike's  Peak  and  scraping 
up  the  gold  as  they  slide.  Don't  you  believe  it,  mister. 
The  peak's  above  snow  line  and  the  ground  is  frozen 
solid  See  that  line  of  wagons?  They're  all  heading 

101 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

to  the  new  Gregory  diggin's,  west  in  the  mountains 
about  forty  miles.  That's  the  big  strike/' 

"  Oh,  shucks !  "  exclaimed  Billy. 

Davy  felt  his  heart  sink;  this,  then,  was  not  the 
end  of  the  gold-seekers'  trail,  and  the  snowy  moun- 
tains, topping  the  barrier  of  the  tumbled  foot-hills, 
looked  like  a  hard  country. 

"  Come,  Davy,"  said  the  Reverend  Mr.  Baxter. 
"  We'll  see  the  sights  first,  anyway." 

So  they  left  Left-over,  hauling  out  his  pick  and 
spade  and  gold-pan  to  join  the  squads  working  along 
the  creek ;  and  Hi  and  Jim  and  Billy,  who  set  forth  on 
errands;  and  trudged  away  "to  see  the  sights." 

"  This  gold  craze  is  all  right  as  a  means  of  at- 
tracting the  people  here,"  remarked  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Baxter,  thoughtfully.  "  But  the  most  wonderful  part 
to  me  is  the  settlement  itself.  There  must  be  fifteen 
hundred  population  already  in  scarce  a  year,  and  emi- 
grants are  pouring  in  at  the  rate  of  a  thousand  a  day, 
I  hear.  There  are  fifty  thousand  on  the  way,  Dave. 
I  don't  give  a  snap  for  the  mines ;  but  look,  what  has 
happened!  This  gold  excitement  is  going  to  settle 
the  plains.  The  United  States  has  jumped  at  a  leap 
from  the  Missouri  River  six  or  seven  hundred  miles 
to  the  mountains.  With  a  city  here,  and  cities  at  the 
other  end,  there'll  soon  be  cities  in  between.  A  whole 
lot  of  waste  country  is  due  to  be  made  useful." 

"  I  don't  call  this  much  of  a  city  yet,"  commented 

19* 


THE  CHERRY  CREEK  DIGGIN'S 

Davy,  considerably  disappointed  over  the  end  of  his 
trip. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Baxter,  "  it's  the  starter  for  one 
if  the  people  don't  starve  to  death.  The  weak  hearts 
will  go  back;  the  strong  ones  will  stick;  it's  only  a 
question  of  holding  out  for  a  while  until  the  land  is 
cultivated." 

Truly,  Denver  was  a  strange  collection  of  tents 
and  shacks,  with  a  few  good  buildings.  The  houses 
were  of  hewn  logs,  sod  roofs  and  dirt  floors,  and  the 
furniture  was  made  mostly  from  slabs  and  planks. 
There  were  few  windows;  and  these  were  filled  with 
sacking  stretched  across  or  else  had  wooden  shutters. 
As  far  as  Davy  could  see,  the  whole  town  did  not 
have  a  pane  of  glass. 

However,  the  streets  (and  particularly  the  two 
main  streets  named  Blake  and  Larimer)  were  thronged 
with  people  as  thick  as  the  crowds  at  the  other  end  of 
the  route,  Leaven  worth.  Indians,  Mexicans  and  whites 
fairly  jostled  elbows,  and  conversation  in  every  variety 
of  speech  was  heard.  The  whites  wore  costumes 
ranging  from  the  broadcloth  frock  coat  and  flowing 
trousers  of  the  St.  Louis  and  New  York  merchant  to 
the  flannel  shirt,  jeans  trousers  and  heavy  boots  of  the 
regular  plainsman  and  miner.  The  Mexicans  wore 
their  broad,  high-peaked  hats  and  their  serapes  or  gay 
Mexican  blankets,  draped  from  their  shoulders.  The 
Indians  stalked  about  bare-headed,  and  enveloped  in 
their  blank^s  also.  There  were  few  women. 
13  193 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Several  stores  handling  general  merchandise  had 
been  opened,  but  according  to  the  signs  goods  were  ex- 
pensive. One  sign  said :  "  Antelope  Meat,  4  cents  a 
Ib."  Picks  and  spades  were  the  cheapest;  they  could 
be  bought  for  fifteen  cents  apiece,  and  nobody  seemed 
to  be  buying  at  that !  This  was  a  bad  sign ;  it  showed 
how  disgusted  many  of  the  overlanders  had  become 
when  they  found  that  they  could  not  dig  gold  out  by 
the  pound  where  they  stopped ! 

Right  in  the  centre  of  Denver  was  a  large  village 
of  Indians,  camped  in  their  tipis.  By  the  hundreds 
they  were  lounging  about,  men,  women  and  children, 
the  men  unclothed  except  for  a  girdle  about  the  waist, 
and  the  children  wearing  nothing  at  all. 

"  Arapahoes,"  pronounced  Mr.  Baxter.  "  Come 
on,  Davy.  There's  the  stage.  Let's  go  over  to  the 
hotel." 

A  large  cloth  sign  before  a  long  one-story  log 
building  said:  "Denver  House."  It  was  next  to  the 
Arapahoe  village.  People  were  hurrying  across  to  this 
hotel,  for  a  stage-coach,  with  crack  of  whip  and  cheer 
from  passengers  and  driver,  had  halted  short  in  front 
of  it. 

The  coach,  drawn  by  its  four  mules,  dusty  and 
lathered,  bore  the  lettering :  "  Leavenworth  &  Pike's 
Peak  Express  Co."  So  this,  then,  was  the  daily 
Leavenworth  stage.  Already  the  street  before  the 
hotel  was  crowded  with  onlookers  who  had  gathered 
to  receive  the  coach.  When  Davy  and  Mr.  Baxter 

194 


THE  CHERRY  CREEK  DIGGIN'S 

arrived  the  travel-worn  passengers  were  clambering 
out.  The  first  was  Mr.  Majors  himself!  Davy  recog- 
nized the  long  beard  and  he  and  Mr.  Baxter  pressed 
forward  to  welcome  their  friend. 

"  Why,  hello,  boys,"  quoth  Mr.  Majors.  "  Where'd 
you  drop  from  ?  " 

"  Just  got  in,"  answered  Mr.  Baxter,  shaking 
hands,  as  did  Davy.  "  We  came  by  mule  and  wagon 
with  Billy  Cody  and  two  or  three  others." 

"How?"   ' 

"  Up  the  Smoky." 

"  Joined  the  gold  rush,  did  you?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  But  I've  about  decided  I'd  rather  plant 
potatoes." 

"  How  about  you,  Dave?  "  queried  Mr.  Majors. 

"  I'd  like  to  eat  one,"  asserted  Davy  ruefully. 

"  You've  got  the  right  idea,  I  guess,"  approved 
Mr.  Majors.  "  But  I  understand  Horace  Greeley  has 
told  the  people  here  they  ought  to  plant  potatoes,  and 
they  laughed  at  him.  Potatoes  are  a  better  crop  than 
gold,  in  my  opinion ;  but  this  country  certainly  doesn't 
look  very  promising  for  them.  How  people  are  going 
to  live  I  don't  know.  It  will  be  good  for  the  freighting 
business,  though.  We'll  be  hauling  stuff  in  here  with 
every  team  we  can  muster.  Did  you  know  we've  taken 
over  the  stage  line,  too  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Well,  we  have.  It's  run  by  Russell,  Majors  & 
Waddell  now  Call  in  on  me  before  I  leave,  and  I'll 

195 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

give  you  a  pass  to  Leavenworth  in  case  you  want  to 
go  back." 

"  All  right.    Thank  you,  Mr.  Majors." 

"  If  I  were  you,  my  lad,  I  wouldn't  stay  around 
here  long,"  continued  Mr.  Majors  to  Davy.  "  This 
place  is  going  to  be  a  good  place,  and  I  haven't  any 
doubt  that  lots  of  gold  will  come  out  of  these  moun- 
tains as  soon  as  the  people  are  experienced  in  finding 
it.  But  looking  for  gold  haphazard  is  a  poor  job  for 
a  boy.  I  think  you'll  do  much  better  on  the  plains. 
A  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush,  you  know ; 
and  there's  a  big  work  to  be  done  in  helping  these 
people  live.  If  the  freight  outfits  aren't  kept  moving 
the  diggings  will  starve.  If  you'll  come  in  to  Leaven- 
worth  we'll  put  you  to  work  with  the  bull  trains." 

"  You'd  better  do  it,  Davy,"  advised  Mr.  Baxter. 
And  Davy  soberly  nodded. 

"  I  guess  I  will,  then." 

"I'm  up  at  our  Nebraska  City  office  most  of  the 
time  now,"  said  Mr.  Majors.  "  But  you'll  find  Mr. 
Russell  at  Leavenworth  and  I'll  tell  him  to  fix  you  out." 
And  Mr.  Majors  shouldered  his  way  into  the  hotel. 

"  Whar's  the  post-office,  stranger?  "  asked  a  voice; 
and  turning  they  faced  an  emigrant  evidently  newly 
arrived. 

"  I  don't  know.  We're  lost  around  here,  ourselves," 
explained  Mr.  Baxter. 

"  Pardon.  I  tella  the  way,"  spoke  somebody  else. 
He  was  a  tall,  swarthy- visaged  man,  with  heavy  black 

196 


THE  CHERRY  CREEK  DIGGIN'b 

moustache  and  black  bushy  eyebrows,  a  large  meer- 
schaum pipe  in  his  mouth.  However,  he  was  neatly 
dressed,  even  to  natty  shoes.  He  looked  like  a  for- 
eigner, and  his  accent  sounded  foreign.  He  con- 
tinued rapidly :  "  That  beeg  house  w'ere  you  see-a  the 
line  of  men." 

"  Thank  'ee,"  acknowledged  the  emigrant,  after  a 
hearty  stare.  And  he  strode  off. 

"And  you,  signers?  Canna  I  direct  you  zome- 
place  ?  "  inquired  the  foreign  man,  with  a  bow. 

"  We're  just  looking  around,  is  all,"  informed  Mr. 
Baxter. 

"  Then  later.  Perhappa  for  the  hair  or  the  whis- 
kers; perhappa  for  the  wash.  Permitta  me."  And 
with  another  bow  he  handed  to  Mr.  Baxter  and  to 
Davy  his  card. 

It  read :  "  H.  Murat.  Tonsorial  Artist.  Shaves, 
Trims  and  Cuts.  Laundry  Done." 

"  Do  you  know  who  he  is  ?  "  piped  another  voice 
at  Davy's  side,  as  the  dark  foreigner  disappeared  in 
the  crowd.  "  He's  a  count,  a  real  Italian  count." 

The  speaker  was  a  slender,  fair-haired  little  fellow, 
not  much  older  than  Dave  himself. 

"  He's  Count  Murat.  His  father  was  a  big  man 
in  Italy.  But  out  here  the  count's  a  barber  and  his 
wife  takes  in  washing." 

"  I  declare !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Baxter.  "  And  where 
did  you  come  from,  son  ?  " 

197 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  From  the  States.  I've  been  up  in  the  diggin's, 
but  I  froze  my  feet  and  I'm  going  home." 

"Are  your  folks  here?" 

"  No,  sir.  I  ran  away.  But  I've  got  enough  and 
when  I  reach  home  I'm  going  to  stay  there." 

"  Well,  you'd  better,"  approved  Mr.  Baxter. 
"  You're  too  young  to  be  out  here  alone." 

"  I  guess  I  am,"  admitted  the  little  fellow.  "  Life 
out  here  is  fierce  unless  you're  used  to  it." 

"  How  are  the  diggin's  ?  queried  Davy,  eagerly. 

"  Forty  miles  into  the  mountains — and  then  always 
a  little  farther,"  asserted  the  young  fellow.  "If  you 
can  stick  it  out  and  don't  freeze  to  death  or  starve  to 
death  you  may  make  a  few  hundred  dollars — and  you 
may  not.  Did  you  ever  mine  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Davy,  and  Mr.  Baxter  shook  his  head, 
smiling. 

"  Then  you're  tenderfeet  like  I  am.  That's  the 
trouble  in  there.  Half  the  people  don't  know  how  to 
find  gold  and  the  other  half  don't  know  it  when  they 
do  find  it.  It's  fierce,  I  tell  you.  I'm  bound  home, 
busted.  I  had  to  walk  in,  fifty  miles ;  but  I've  earned 
just  enough  to  take  me  through  to  the  Missouri." 

"How?"  asked  Davy. 

"  Sweeping  out  for  one  of  the  gambling  houses," 
and  with  a  gesture  of  disgust  the  slender  youngster 
turned  away. 

Mr.  Baxter  watched  him  a  moment. 

198 


THE  CHERRY  CREEK  DIGGIN'S 

"  Davy,"  he  uttered,  "  that's  no  boy.  That's  a  girl. 
Great  Scott!  What  a  place  for  a  girl! " 

And  later  they  found  out  that  Mr.  Baxter  had 
spoken  the  truth.  They  were  glad  to  learn  that  the 
pretended  boy  took  the  next  stage  back  to  Leavenworth 
and  reached  there  safely. 

"  Let's  try  our  luck  at  the  post-office,"  proposed 
Mr.  Baxter.  "  I'd  like  to  get  a  letter,  myself." 

They  threaded  their  way  in  the  direction  of  the 
office.  The  mail  had  recently  come  in,  for  from  the 
post-office  window  a  line  of  men,  single  file,  extended 
over  a  block.  However,  before  they  two  took  their 
places  Billy  Cody  stopped  them. 

"  I  asked  for  your  mail,"  he  announced.  "  There 
wasn't  any.  I  got  a  letter  from  ma.  All  she  said  was : 
'  Dear  Will.  Let  us  know  how  you  are.  We  are  well. 
Mother.'  And  I  had  to  pay  fifty  cents  for  it  down 
from  Laramie.  The  new  stage  line  carries  letters  for 
twenty-five  cents.  Wish  ma  had  written  more  for  the 
money.  She  might  just  as  well." 

"  What's  the  news,  Billy?  What  are  you  and  the 
rest  of  the  outfit  going  to  do?  " 

"  Hi  and  Jim  and  I  are  going  on  up  to  the  diggin's 
right  away.  See  that  line  of  travel?"  And  Billy 
pointed  to  the  constant  procession  of  wagons  and  of 
people  afoot,  extending  from  the  settlement  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach,  westward  into  the  hills  fifteen  miles 
distant  *"  They're  all  going.  Left-over's  quit  and 
joined  another  outfit.  He  couldn't  wait.  Jim  and  Hi 

19$ 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

are  buying  supplies.  Did  you  notice  the  prices? 
Eggs  are  two  dollars  and  a  half  a  dozen.  Milk  fifty 
cents  a  quart.  Flour  ten  dollars  for  a  fifty-pound  sack. 
Reckon  beans  and  sowbelly  will  do  for  us.  They  say 
even  game  is  scarce  around  the  diggin's. 

"If  you  fellows  don't  mind  I  believe  I'll  stay  around 
here  for  a  while  till  people  cool  down  a  little,"  said  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Baxter. 

"Cool  down!"  exclaimed  Billy.  "Huh!  The 
stage  driver  says  he  passed  ten  thousand  emigrants  all 
heading  this  way !  " 

"  Then  I  guess  I  won't  be  missed,"  laughed  Mr. 
Baxter. 

"  How  about  you,  Dave?  "  asked  Billy. 

Davy  hesitated.  What  the  "  boy "  (who  was  a 
girl)  had  told  them  rather  weighed  on  his  mind.  And 
the  same  old  story  of  "  beans  and  sowbelly  "  did  not 
sound  inviting  any  longer. 

"  We  saw  Mr.  Majors.  He  offered  Dave  a  job 
freighting  and  a  pass  to  Leavenworth,"  put  in  Mr. 
Baxter. 

"  Take  it  if  you  want  to,  Dave,"  said  Billy,  quickly. 
"  Life  in  the  diggin's  will  be  mighty  tough,  but  I've 
got  started  and  I'm  going  in.  You  do  as  you  please." 

"  Well,"  faltered  Dave,  "  I  reckon  maybe  I'll  stay 
out  a  while." 

"  All  right,"  quoth  Billy.  "  We'll  see  you  before 
we  leave.  We  want  to  pull  right  out,  thougn." 

Nothing  could  stop  Hi  and  Jim  and  Billy;  and 

€00 


THE  CHERRY  CREEK  DIGGINGS 

sure  enough  that  afternoon  they  did  pull  out  for  the 
diggings  forty  and  more  miles  west,  among  the  moun- 
tains. They  settled  with  Mr.  Baxter  and  Dave  for 
the  two  shares  in  the  Hee-Haw  outfit,  and  left  with  a 
cheer. 

Davy  felt  a  momentary  twinge  of  regret  that  he 
was  not  going,  too;  but  when  he  remembered  what 
Mr.  Majors  had  said  about  "  haphazard  looking  "  and 
a  "  bird  in  the  hand  "  he  decided  that,  after  all,  he 
had  done  what  was  best.  The  work  of  bridging  the 
plains  was  a  great  work  and  very  necessary  if  these 
settlements  at  the  mountains  were  to  live. 

"  Let's  go  over  to  Auraria  and  see  that,  Dave," 
invited  Mr.  Baxter.  "  Then  we  can  find  a  place  to  stop 
in  over  night.  I'm  tired  of  bedding  out  on  the  ground." 

Cherry  Creek  was  almost  dry.  Camps  and  cabins 
had  been  located  right  in  the  middle  of  it,  so 
they  easily  walked  across.  Auraria  was  larger  than 
Denver,  but  the  buildings  were  not  so  good.  They  were 
of  rough  cotton  wood  logs,  whereas  the  Denver  logs 
were  smoothed  and  many  were  of  pine  brought  down 
from  the  timber  in  the  hills.  Auraria  had  the  news- 
paper, the  Rocky  Mountain  News,  whose  press  and 
type  and  so  forth  had  been  hauled  overland  by  the 
editor,  Mr.  W.  N.  Byers.  Like  Denver  City,  Auraria 
was  bustling  with  all  kinds  of  people. 

"  How  are  you,  strangers  ?  Don't  you  want  to  buy  a 
city  lot  and  make  your  fortune?  "  invited  an  alert  man 
of  the  two  Hee-Haws. 

201 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  What's  the  price?  "  asked  Mr.  Baxter. 

"What'll  you  give?  Cash  or  trade?  The  best 
lots  in  the  city.  Can't  be  beat." 

"  Will  you  take  a  sack  of  flour?  "  demanded  Mr. 
Baxter. 

"  Done!  "  snapped  the  man.  "  Flour's  better  than 
money,  friend.  Where's  your  flour?  " 

"Where  are  your  lots?" 

"  Right  yonder.    I'll  show  you." 

The  man  promptly  led  them  on.  The  lots  proved 
to  be  somewhere  in  the  midst  of  bare,  sandy  ground 
half  a  mile  out  from  the  business  street.  They  looked 
forlorn  and  lonely,  and  Davy  did  not  think  much  of 
them.  Neither,  evidently,  did  Mr.  Baxter.  One  rude 
cabin  stood  there. 

"  Cabin  too?  "  queried  Mr.  Baxter. 

"  Sure." 

"How  many  lots?" 

"  Five,  my  friend.  Five  of  the  finest  lots  in  this 
bustling  metropolis  for  your  sack  of  flour.  And  re- 
member this  is  Auraria;  'tain't  measley  Denver.  I 
reckon  you  could  buy  half  of  Denver  for  your  flour 
and  then  you'd  be  cheated." 

"All  right.  We'll  take  you,  won't  we,  Davy?" 
responded  Mr.  Baxter,  off-hand.  "  And  we'll  move 
right  in" 

"  Show  me  your  flour  and  we'll  go  to  the  land  office 
and  close  the  deal." 


THE  CHERRY  CREEK  BIGGIN'S 

So  they  delivered  to  him  the  flour.  At  the  land 
office  the  clerk  asked  their  names. 

"This  is  the  Jones'  flour,  Dave/'  reminded  Mr. 
Baxter,  eyeing  Davy.  "  We'll  have  that  deed  made  out 
to  Jasper  Jones;  he's  on  the  way.  Meanwhile  we'll 
occupy  the  cabin." 

That  was  certainly  a  good  scheme — besides,  as 
occurred  to  Dave,  being  very  honest.  Only  it  seemed 
rather  a  high  price  to  pay  for  just  five  lots  away  from 
everywhere.  The  next  time  that  Davy  saw  those  lots 
they  were  quoted  at  a  thousand  dollars  apiece ! 


XIV 
DAVY  SIGNS  AS  "  EXTRA 


ONE  more  day  in  Denver  and  Auraria  satisfied 
Dave.  He  had  seen  about  all  there  was  to  see,  and  had 
loafed  long  enough.  He  wanted  to  go  to  work.  How- 
ever, many  other  people  wanted  to  go  to  work,  too. 
But  work  was  scarce  and  money  scarcer,  and  pro- 
visions were  tremendously  high.  Travellers  were  con- 
stantly coming  back  from  the  mountains  with  tales  of 
woe  and  with  empty  pockets  and  sore  feet.  The 
great  editor,  Horace  Greeley,  had  advised  people  to 
plant  crops;  then  he  had  continued  on  west,  for  Cali- 
fornia. But  the  people  were  bent  on  getting  rich  all 
at  once  by  mining  instead  of  waiting  for  crops.  This 
i^ade  the  situation  bad,  especially  for  a  boy. 

"  You'd  better  take  the  stage  back  to-morrow, 
Dave,"  counselled  Mr.  Baxter.  "  I'll  see  you  later." 

"  Guess  I  will,  then,"  said  Dave.  "  What  will  you 
do,  though  ? "  For  he  did  not  like  to  desert  his 
partner. 

"  Oh,"  laughed  Mr.  Baxter,  "  there's  a  good  living 
in  hauling  timber  in  from  the  foothills.  Another  fel- 
low has  offered  to  furnish  the  team  and  do  the  hauling 
if  I'll  do  the  chopping.  But  that's  no  life  for  a  boy, 

201 


DAVY  SIGNS  AS  "EXTRA" 

Dave.  You'll  learn  more,  freighting  out  of  Leaven- 
worth;  and  then  you  can  go  to  school  in  the  winter. 
See?" 

That  sounded  sensible.  Thus  the  Hee-Haw  outfit 
had  divided :  Billy  Cody  and  Hi  and  Jim  and  Left-over 
mining ;  Mr.  Baxter  cutting  timber,  and  Davy  freight- 
ing across  the  plains.  Such  was  life  in  the  busy  West. 

Davy  engaged  passage  in  the  next  morning's 
Leavenworth  &  Pike's  Peak  stage,  east  bound  to  the 
States.  It  had  taken  the  Hee-Haw  outfit  forty  days 
to  come  out;  now  Davy  was  going  back  in  six.  This 
was  luxury.  The  coach  held  six  passengers,  with  one 
on  the  seat.  There  was  a  school-teacher  from  Ver- 
mont, a  merchant  from  Ohio,  a  banker  from  Chicago, 
an  army  officer  from  Fort  Leavenworth,  a  man  and 
wife  from  Boston,  and  Davy.  All,  except  Davy,  had 
been  to  the  "  diggin's  " — and  the  Ohio  merchant  let  slip 
the  fact  that  he  had  located  a  good  claim  there  where 
he  and  his  partner  were  washing  out  two  hundred  dol- 
lars a  day !  So  he  was  returning  for  his  family. 

Yes,  it  was  an  interesting  company;  but  as  best 
of  all,  the  driver  was  Hank  Bassett ! 

"Why,  hello!"  greeted  Hank  of  Dave.  "Bully 
for  you.  Get  up  here  on  the  seat.  I'll  take  you 
through  in  style." 

"  I  engaged  that  seat,"  objected  the  school-teacher. 

"  Not  much,"  retorted  Hank.  "  It'll  make  you 
seasick.  I  can  have  what  I  want  in  this  seat ;  and  the 

205 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

boy  rides  there.    I  can  depend  on  him  if  I  need  a  hand, 
and  that's  very  important,  mister." 

"  You  know  him,  do  you?  " 

"  You're  right  I  know  him.  We've  worked  to- 
gether before,  haven't  we,  Dave?  " 

Davy  blushed,  somewhat  embarrassed  by  Hank's 
hearty  manner ;  but  Hank  had  ordered,  and  Hank  was 
boss,  and  Dave  climbed  to  the  seat  beside  him. 

With  crack  of  whip  and  cheer  from  the  crowd 
gathered  to  watch,  at  a  gallop  out  surged  the  four 
mules  for  the  nigh  seven  hundred  miles  to  the  Missouri 
River  and  the  States.  Davy  thoroughly  enjoyed  that 
trip.  Hank  sent  his  mules  forward  at  a  rattling  pace ; 
for,  as  he  explained,  he  changed  teams  at  every  station, 
eighteen  or  twenty  miles  apart.  Night  and  day  the 
stage  travelled,  making  its  one  hundred  miles  each 
twenty- four  hours,  halting  only  to  change  teams  and 
for  meals. 

And  night  and  day  the  Pike's  Peak  pilgrims  were 
in  sight.  The  westward  travel  was  even  more  pro- 
nounced than  earlier  in  the  year,  when  the  Hee-Haws 
had  joined  in  it.  There  were  new  signs,  too,  on  the 
wagons.  "  Bound  for  the  Land  of  Gold."  "  Family 
Express ;  Milk  for  Sale !  "  "  Mind  Your  Own  Busi- 
ness/' "We  Are  Off  for  the  Peak.  Are  You?" 
"  Hooray  for  the  Diggings !  "  These  and  other  an- 
nouncements Davy  read  on  the  prairie  schooners  as  the 
hurrying  stage  passed. 

"  Horace   Greeley,   the  New  York  editor,   wrote 
£06 


DAVY  SIGNS  AS  "EXTRA" 

back  east  that  the  Pike's  Peak  country  is  O.  K.,"  said 
Hank  to  Davy.  "  That's  what's  set  the  tide  flowin'  in 
earnest.  People  were  waitin'  to  get  his  opinion.  He 
inspected  the  diggin's,  and  he  says  the  gold  is  thar — 
although  most  people  would  do  better  to  take  up  land 
in  Kansas  and  go  to  farmin'.  If  you  call  this  trail  a 
busy  one  you  ought  to  see  the  Salt  Lake  Overland  Trail 
up  the  Platte.  I  hear  three  hundred  wagons  a  day 
pass  Fort  Kearney.  This  booms  the  freightin'  busi- 
ness. The  old  man  (Hank  meant  Mr.  Majors)  and 
his  pards  are  puttin'  on  every  team  they  can  lay  hands 
to  for  haulin'  goods  an'  provisions.  Why,  this  hyar 
stage  line  is  usin'  a  thousand  mules  and  fifty  coaches. 
You're  thinkin'  of  bull  whackin',  are  you?  " 

"  Mr.  Majors  offered  me  a  job,"  answered  Davy. 

Hank  spat  over  the  lines. 

"  It's  a  good  firm  to  work  for,"  he  said.  "  And  a 
man's  job.  After  you've  bull  whacked  a  while  you'll 
be  drivin'  stage  like  I  am." 

That  sounded  attractive.  To  handle  four  mules  at 
a  gallop,  dragging  a  coach  across  the  plains  in  spite  of 
Indians  and  weather,  appeared  quite  a  feat.  Driving 
stage  meant  taking  care  of  people  as  well  as  of  animals. 

However,  holding  up  one's  end  with  a  freight  outfit 
was  not  to  be  despised,  these  days.  On  arriving  at 
Leavenworth  Davy  lost  no  time  in  reporting  at  the 
Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  office.  Mr.  Majors  was 
not  here.  He  had  removed  his  family  up  to  Nebraska 
City,  on  the  Missouri  above  Leavenworth,  where  a 

207 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

branch  office  had  been  established  in  order  to  relieve 
the  crowded  state  of  the  Leavenworth  shipping  yards. 
However,  if  Mr.  Majors  was  gone,  here  was  Mr.  Rus- 
sell, as  snappy  and  alert  as  ever,  taking  care  of  what- 
ever came  his  way. 

"  All  right,  my  boy,"  he  greeted  promptly.  "If 
you  want  a  job  you're  just  in  time.  When  did  you 
get  in?" 

"  This  noon,  Mr.  Russell." 

"  I  suppose  you're  ready  to  start  back  again  for 
the  mountains  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Good.  We've  got  a  train  made  up  to  leave  in 
about  an  hour.  Charley  Martin's  wagon  master. 
You'll  find  him  a  fine  fellow.  He  comes  from  a  wealthy 
family  in  my  home  town,  Lexington,  Missouri.  You'll 
be  an  '  extra '  at  forty  dollars  a  month,  and  have  a 
mule  to  ride.  I  expect  you  to  do  as  well  as  Billy  Cody's 
done.  You  know  what  your  duties  are,  do  you? 
You'll  act  as  the  wagon  master's  orderly,  or  mes- 
senger, to  carry  word  along  the  line;  and  if  necessary 
you'll,  fill  the  place  of  any  hand  who's  sick.  Let's  see — 
you  signed  the  pledge  once,  didn't  you?  " 
,  "  Yes,  Mr.  Russell." 

"  Well,  we  changed  that  pledge  a  little  to  make  it 
stronger.  Mr.  Majors  has  drawn  up  a  new  one.  Read 
it  before  you  sign,"  and  Mr.  Russell  reached  out  his 
tanned,  freckled  hand  for  a  pad  of  printed  forms. 

Davy  read :    "  I, ,  do  hereby  swear,  before 

208 


DAVY  SIGNS  AS  "EXTRA" 

the  Great  and  Living  God,  that  during  my  engagement 
and  while  I  am  in  the  employ  of  Russell,  Majors  & 
Waddell,  I  will,  under  no  circumstances,  use  profane 
language ;  that  I  will  drink  no  intoxicating  liquors ;  that 
I  will  not  quarrel  or  fight  with  any  other  employe  of 
the  firm,  and  that  in  every  respect  I  will  conduct  my- 
self honestly,  be  faithful  to  my  duties,  and  so  direct 
all  my  acts  as  to  win  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  my 
employers.  So  help  me  God." 

This  was  an  impressive  promise,  but  it  sounded 
just  like  the  strict  and  Christian  Mr.  Majors.  Dave 
had  no  hesitation  in  signing  it. 

"All  right,"  crisply  approved  Mr.  Russell.  "If 
you  keep  that  pledge  you'll  never  be  far  wrong.  Here's 
your  Bible.  To  every  man  employed  in  our  trains  we 
give  a  Bible.  There's  no  time  or  place  when  the  Bible 
isn't  a  help  and  a  comfort.  The  more  of  them  we  get 
on  the  plains  the  better.  Now  I'm  going  out  to  the 
camp.  You  come  along  and  I'll  start  you  off." 

Davy  tucked  the  compact  little  leather-bound  Bible 
into  his  pocket,  and  followed  Mr.  Russell's  wiry  active 
figure  out  of  the  door.  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell 
certainly  organized  their  business  on  somewhat  un- 
usual lines ;  Davy  had  heard  the  pledge  and  the  Bible 
both  laughed  at  by  outsiders  as  being  foolishness  for 
running  bull  trains.  But  nobody  was  enabled  to  point 
out  the  harm  done,  and  few  denied  that  considerable 
good  might  result.  At  any  rate,  no  better  bull  outfits 
crossed  the  plains  than  those  of  Russell,  Majors  & 

14  209 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Waddell.  They  did  what  no  other  outfits  could  do; 
nothing  stopped  them. 

The  streets  of  Leaven  worth  were  busier  than  ever, 
with  emigrants,  teamsters,  rivermen,  soldiers,  and  In- 
dians— Kickapoos,  Osages  and  Pottawattamies ;  with 
wagons,  oxen,  mules  and  horses.  The  company's 
freight  trains  were  started  from  a  large  camp  on  the 
outskirts  of  town.  Hither  Mr.  Russell,  with  Davy  in 
tow,  hastened. 

Charley  Martin  was  speedily  found  working  hard- 
together  with  the  assistant  wagon  master,  who  was 
nicknamed  "  Yank." 

"  Here's  your  *  extra,'  Charley,"  announced  Mr. 
Russell. 

Charley  paused  and  wiped  his  forehead.  He  gazed, 
rather  puzzled. 

"  What  name  does  he  go  by,  Mr.  Russell  ?  " 

"  Davy  Scott." 

"  Sometimes  they  call  me  '  Red/  too,"  volunteered 
Davy. 

Charley  Martin  smiled ;  and  when  he  smiled,  Davv 
instantly  liked  him. 

"  Oho !  This  must  be  Billy  Cody's  pard  on  the  trail 
and  at  the  Cody  home,  I  reckon.  I've  heard  about  him, 
but  I  never  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him.  You 
must  have  been  growing  some,  haven't  you,  Red?  I 
thought  you  were  a  runt."  And  Davy  fidgeted,  em- 
barrassed. During  his  sturdy  life  in  the  open  air  he 
had  indeed  been  growing;  he  had  shot  up  and  broad- 

210 


DAVY  SIGNS  AS  "EXTRA" 

ened  out,  and  had  acquired  a  steady  eye  and  a  manner 
of  self-reliance.  "  Where' ve  you  been  keeping  your- 
self lately?"  continued  Charley. 

"  I've  just  got  back  from  Pike's  Peak." 

"  Good  for  you.  Well,  if  you've  travelled  with 
Billy  Cody,  and  Mr.  Russell  recommends  you,  too, 
you'll  do."  And  Charley  called  to  his  assistant: 
"  Here's  our  « extra/  Yank." 

Charley  was  small  and  compact,  tanned  and  gray- 
eyed,  and  so  quick  and  cheery  that  anybody  felt  like 
calling  him  by  his  first  name  at  once.  "  Yank,"  the 
assistant  wagon  boss,  was  high-shouldered,  long- 
legged,  slouchy,  and  very  different  from  Charley.  His 
sullen  face  was  bristly  with  carroty  stubble,  his  eyes 
were  small  and  close  together,  and  his  lips  were  thin 
and  hard-set,  leaking  tobacco- juice.  Him,  Davy  did 
not  fancy  at  all ;  and  by  his  glance  and  contemptuous 
grunt  he  evidently  did  not  fancy  Davy. 

Further  exchange  of  conversation  was  interrupted 
by  the  incisive  voice  of  Mr.  Russell  reproving  a  team- 
ster who  had  a  perverse  ox  in  hand. 

"  My  man,  don't  you  understand  there's  to  be  no 
cursing  while  you're  working  for  this  company  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  cursing,"  retorted  the  man,  with  a  dread- 
ful oath. 

"  But  you're  cursing  right  this  minute !  "  asserted 
Mr.  Russell,  sharply. 

"  I'm  not,  either,"  answered  the  man,  with  another 
oath 

fill 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Why,  you  curse  every  time  you  open  your 
mouth,"  asserted  Mr.  Russell,  red  with  anger. 

"  I  don't,"  insisted  the  man,  as  before. 

That  was  too  much  for  Mr.  Russell.  As  if  not 
knowing  quite  what  to  do  with  such  an  ignoramus  as 
this  he  walked  off,  scratching  his  head,  and  left  the 
puzzled  teamster  scratching  his. 

"  Well,  Red,  get  busy  if  you're  to  travel  with  this 
outfit,"  bade  Charley  to  Davy;  and  proceeded  to  give 
orders  right  and  left. 

The  train  was  made  up  and  almost  ready  to  start. 
The  last  covers  were  being  drawn  taut,  and  the  last 
wagon,  which  had  been  delayed  to  load  in  town,  was 
approaching. 

"  All  set?  "  shouted  Charley  to  the  teamster  who, 
standing  beside  the  rear  pair  of  his  team,  seemed  to 
have  been  appointed  as  the  leader. 

The  teamster  nodded. 

"  All  set." 

"String  out,"  ordered  Charley,  and  the  word  was 
carried  along :  "  String  out,  boys !  Fall  in !  " 

The  lead  teamster  flung  his  lash;  it  flipped  for- 
ward and  cracked  like  a  pistol-shot  over  the  backs  of 
his  twelve  oxen. 

"  Spot !     Dandy !     Yip !     Yip  with  you !  " 

The  twelve  oxen  lunged  all  together  as  a  well- 
trained  team;  and  creaking,  the  huge  wagon  rolled 
ahead. 

"Haw!     Whoa— haw!     Hep!     Hep!" 
212 


DAVY  SIGNS  AS  "EXTRA" 

To  the  shouts,  and  the  volley  of  whip-snappers,  the 
grunts  of  the  oxen,  creakings  of  the  wagons  and  yokes, 
and  rattle  of  the  ox-chains,  the  train  uncoiled  from 
the  mass  that  it  had  formed  and  lengthened  out  into  a 
long  line.  Led  by  that  first  teamster  whose  "  bulls," 
sleek-coated,  evidently  were  his  pride,  the  white-topped 
bull  train  stretched  out  for  the  farther  West. 

Charley,  the  wagon  master,  rode  well  up  with  the 
leading  team,  and  Davy,  his  assistant,  as  his  aide  or 
orderly,  rode  at  his  elbow  ready  for  orders.  Yank, 
assistant  wagon  master,  was  down  the  line.  At  the 
rear,  behind  the  few  loose  cattle  taken  along  for  use  in 
case  of  accidents,  rode  on  a  mule  the  "  cavvy  "  herder 
— a  young  Eastern  chap  who  was  Mr.  Waddell's 
nephew  and  wanted  to  learn  plains  life.  "  Cavvy  "  of 
course  was  the  short  for  "  cavvy-yard,"  and  "  cavvy- 
yard "  was  the  slang  for  "  caballada,"  Spanish  of 
"  horse-herd." 

There  were  twenty-six  wagons  in  the  train :  twenty- 
five  loaded  with  freight  and  one  mess-wagon  carrying 
the  supplies.  They  were  enormous  wagons,  some  of 
them  seventeen  feet  long,  the  broad  boxes  five  or  six 
feet  deep,  the  great  wheels  wide  tired;  and  over  all  a 
flaring  hood  of  canvas  labelled  "  Osnaburg "  (the 
trademark  of  the  famous  mills  which  furnished  most 
of  the  duck  and  sheeting  used  on  the  plains),  stretched 
upon  bows,  nailed  fast  at  the  edges  to  the  wagon-box, 
but  at  either  end  puckered  tight  by  draw  ropes,  leaving 
an  oblong  hole.  As  Davy  knew,  the  wheels,  axles  and 

213 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

other  running  gear  were  the  very  best  of  wood.  Even 
the  ends  of  the  axles,  on  which  fitted  the  wheels,  were 
wood.  The  wheels  were  held  on  by  an  iron  linch-pin 
thrust  through  the  axle  outside  the  hub.  These  wooden 
axles  on  the  sandy,  dusty  plains  required  much  greas- 
ing, and  from  the  rear  axle  of  each  wagon  hung  a  pot 
of  tar  for  greasing.  On  the  reach-pole,  which  was  the 
pole  projecting  from  underneath  the  box,  out  behind 
the  wagon,  was  slung  a  ten-gallon  keg  of  water. 

Each  wagon  was  drawn  by  twelve  oxen,  yoked  to- 
gether in  six  pairs.  This  was  the  regular  fashion; 
twenty-five  freight  wagons  to  a  train,  and  six  yoke  of 
bulls  to  a  wagon.  There  were  thirty-one  men  in  the 
outfit :  a  teamster  for  each  of  the  twenty-six  wagons, 
the  wagon  master  and  the  assistant  wagon  master,  Davy 
the  "  extra,"  another  "  extra  "  (who  was  a  regular 
teamster),  and  the  cavvy  herder.  The  teamsters 
trudged  beside  their  teams ;  the  only  persons  who  rode 
were  Charley  and  Yank  and  Davy  and  the  cawy 
herder,  on  their  mules. 

The  freight  train  was  called  a  "  bull  train  " ;  the 
wagons  were  "  bull  wagons  " ;  the  oxen  were  "  bull 
teams  " ;  the  teamsters  were  "  bull  whackers  " ;  the 
wagon  master  was  the  "  bull  wagon  boss  " ;  and  the 
whole  array  was  a  "  bull  outfit." 

Stretched  out  in  a  line  a  quarter  of  a  mile  long,  the 
train  made  a  handsome  sight  to  Davy,  proudly  look- 
ing back  from  his  post  at  the  flank  of  Charley's  mule. 
The  oxen,  fresh  for  the  start,  with  heads  low  and  necks 

214 


DAVY  SIGNS  AS  "EXTRA" 

fitted  into  great  wooden  yoke  and  bow,  pulled  stanchly, 
at  a  dignified,  steady  plod,  keeping  the  heavy  ox-chains 
tight.  The  majority  of  the  "  bulls  "  were  spotted  white 
and  red  or  black;  there  were  a  number  of  roans  and 
reds  and  a  few  black.  The  head  team  were  black, 
except  the  pair  next  to  the  wagon,  which  were  red. 
Several  had  been  dehorned  because  they  were 
fighters. 

The  teamsters  strode  sturdily,  cracking  their  whips, 
shouting  to  their  teams  and  to  one  another,  and  occa- 
sionally singing.  One  and  all  wore  neither  coat  nor 
vest,  but  heavy  flannel  shirt  of  red  or  blue,  and  a  silk 
or  cotton  handkerchief  about  the  neck.  Their  shirts 
were  tucked  into  coarse  trousers,  and  the  trousers  into 
high,  stout  cowhide  boots.  On  their  heads  were  the 
regular  broad-brimmed,  flat-crowned  felt  hats  that 
plains  travellers  liked  best.  About  the  waists  of  the 
most  of  the  men  were  strapped  one  or  two  big  Colt's 
revolvers,  and  through  the  belt  was  thrust  a  butcher- 
knife.  They  all  had  a  gun  somewhere,  either  belted 
on  or  else  as  a  yager  or  a  rifle  stowed  handily  in  the 
wagon.  And  every  teamster  carried,  trailing  or  coiled, 
his  long-lashed  whip. 

The  train  was,  as  Charley  remarked  roundly  to 
Dave,  "  a  crack  outfit." 

:t  We've  got  some  of  the  top-notcher  teams  and 
whackers  of  the  whole  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  con- 
cern," he  said.  "  There  s  not  a  better  bull-whip  slinger 

215 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

or  a  better  six  yoke  of  bulls  on  the  trail  than  right 
here  with  this  lead  wagon.  Of  course,  I  suppose  we've 
some  crooked  sticks,  like  every  train  has;  but  they've 
got  to  behave  themselves  while  I'm  boss." 

The  train  was  bound  for  Denver  by  the  regular 
Overland  Trail  up  the  Platte  River,  through  central 
Nebraska.  The  Government  road  from  Leavenworth, 
to  strike  the  main  trail,  was  that  travelled  road  which 
crossed  the  Salt  Creek  Valley;  Davy  seized  the  chance 
to  dart  aside  for  a  moment  and  say  "  how-de-do  "  to 
Mother  Cody  and  the  girls.  He  gave  them  what  word 
he  could  of  Billy,  but  they  gave  him  none,  for  they 
had  not  had  time  to  hear  from  Billy  since  he  had 
reached  the  diggings. 

The  bull  train  toiled  on  over  the  hill  and  out  of  the 
valley.  Now  it  was  fairly  launched  upon  its  day-by- 
day  journey  of  700  miles.  It  did  not  travel  alone. 
The  trail  before  and  behind  was  alive  with  other  out- 
fits, chiefly  emigrants,  likewise  bound  for  the  "  Peak," 
and  Charley  asserted  that  when  the  main  trail  was 
entered,  at  Fort  Kearney,  where  the  travel  from 
Omaha  and  St.  Joe  and  Nebraska  City  joined  with  the 
travel  from  Leavenworth,  there'd  scarcely  be  room  to 
camp! 

"  How  long  will  we  be  on  the  road,  do  you  think?  " 
asked  Dave. 

"  Leavenworth  to  Denver?  About  fifty  days  if  we 
have  reasonable  luck.  The  trail's  so  crowded  and 

£16 


DAVY  SIGNS  AS  "EXTRA" 

dusty  and  fodder's  so  scarce  I  don't  reckon  we'll  aver- 
age more  than  twelve  miles  a  day.  We're  hauling 
seventy  hundred  pounds  in  some  of  those  wagons. 
But  I  have  averaged  fifteen  miles  a  day;  and  travelling 
empty  a  smart  bull  train  headed  for  home  can  make 
twenty." 

It  now  was  past  midsummer ;  it  would  be  fall  when 
the  train  reached  the  mountains,  and  winter  before  it 
got  home  again. 


XV 

FREIGHTING  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS 


"  Do  you  know,"  drawled  Charley  Martin,  lazily, 
after  supper  this  evening,  "  there's  a  heap  of  money 
wrapped  up  in  one  of  these  bull  outfits?  " 

They  had  made  camp  at  sunset — and  the  sight  had 
been  an  inspiring  one.  On  order  from  Charley,  the 
lead  wagon  had  turned  from  the  trail  and  halted ;  the 
second  wagon  had  pulled  up  opposite  and  also  halted ; 
the  third  wagon  had  halted  behind  the  first,  a  little 
outside  of  it,  with  tongue  pointing  out  and  the  fore 
wheels  about  on  a  line  with  the  other  wagon's  rear 
wheels.  The  fourth  wagon  had  halted  in  similar  posi- 
tion behind  the  second  wagon.  And  so  forth.  Each 
wagon  widened  the  circle  until  it  was  time  for  them 
to  begin  to  edge  the  other  way  and  narrow  the  circle. 
At  the  last  the  circle  was  complete,  save  for  an  open- 
ing at  either  end.  When  the  ox-chains  had  been  linked 
from  wagon-wheel  to  next  wagon-wheel  then  the  bull 
corral,  as  it  was  called,  was  finished.  Or,  no;  after 
the  bulls  had  been  unyoked  and  driven  to  water  and 
pasture  each  wagon  tongue  was  hung  off  the  ground, 
slung  in  the  draw  ropes  of  the  front  end  of  the  hood. 
This  weight  kept  the  canvas  hood  pulled  taut  in  case 
of  storm 

218 


FREIGHTING  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS 

It  took  considerable  skill  in  driving  to  swing  the 
long  bull  teams  and  land  the  wagons  just  right  to  form 
the  corral.  Yes,  and  the  animals  needed  to  be  well 
trained,  too.  By  the  way  that  all  went  to  work  this 
wagon  outfit  knew  their  business. 

The  corral  was  useful  for  yoking  the  bulls  and  for 
standing  off  Indians.  No  Indians  dared  to  charge  a 
wagon  corral  when  the  men  inside  it  had  guns  and 
ammunition. 

The  bulls  were  put  out  to  pasture  in  charge  of  two 
teamsters  selected  as  herders.  The  men  had  been 
divided  into  four  messes.  Each  mess  chose  a  cook  and 
their  water  carrier  and  fuel  gatherers  and  guards — 
when  guard  was  needed.  Davy  was  in  Captain  Char- 
ley's mess,  which  consisted  of  Charley  and  Yank,  Davy, 
the  cavvy  herder,  the  lead  teamster,  whose  name  was 
Joel  Badger,  and  the  extra  teamster,  Henry  Renick, 
who  did  the  cooking.  This  was  the  smallest  mess. 

Each  mess  had  its  fire,  about  which  the  men 
lounged  after  eating,  to  smoke  their  pipes  and  joke  and 
tell  stories. 

"  Yes,  siree ;  there's  a  lot  of  money  wrapped  up  in 
a  bull  outfit,"  quoth  Wagon  Boss  Charley.  "  Take 
this  train  here.  The  most  of  those  wagons  are  '  Mur- 
phies '  (by  which  he  meant  wagons  manufactured 
by  J.  Murphy,  of  St.  Louis),  or  else  the  Conestoga 
pattern  built  down  at  Westport  (and  by  Westport 
was  meant  Kansas  City).  Only  the  best  of  stuff 
goes  into  those  wagons.  Hickory,  generally — though 

219 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRIAL 

osage  orange  is  said  to  be  better,  for  it  won't  warp. 
But  second  growth  hickory  and  sound  white  oak  an- 
swer the  purpose  if  they're  so  well  seasoned  that  they 
won't  shrink  or  warp.  This  dry  air  out  on  these  plains 
plays  the  dickens  with  wheels;  it  saps  them  dry  and 
makes  them  so  they  want  to  fall  to  pieces.  Well,  I 
reckon  you  all  know  this  better  than  I  do.  But  as  I 
was  going  to  say,  one  of  these  wagons  figures  easily 
three  hundred  dollars,  including  bows  and  canvas. 
Then,  bulls  have  been  seventy-five  dollars  a  yoke,  but 
they're  rising  to  double  that.  Taking  the  six  yoke  at 
five  hundred  dollars,  and  adding  the  yokes  and  bows 
and  chains  and  other  gear,  you'll  have  nigh  to  a 
thousand  dollars  in  each  wagon  outfit.  With  twenty- 
five  and  twenty-six  wagons  making  a  train  there's 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars  in  outfit  alone.  And  Rus- 
sell, Majors  &  Waddell  have  bull  trains  like  this  every 
five  or  six  miles  clear  across  from  the  Missouri  River 
to  Salt  Lake!" 

"  Not  to  speak  of  the  wages  of  the  men  and  the  cost 
of  the  supplies/'  added  Joel  Badger. 

:<  Yes,  sir ;  not  to  mention  the  thirty  or  more  men 
with  every  train  at  a  dollar  a  day  up;  and  the  beans 
and  flour  and  sowbelly  and  coffee  they  use." 

"  Just  the  same,"  observed  Joel,  "  I  hear  that  in 
Fifty-six,  before  Waddell  joined,  Majors  &  Russell 
cleaned  up  about  seventy  thousand  dollars  with  three 
hundred  wagons  at  work." 

Charley  nodded 


FREIGHTING  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS 

*'  You  can  sum  up  for  yourself.  We're  hauling 
flour  at  nine  cents  a  pound,  meat  at  fifteen  cents,  furni- 
ture at  thirty  cents,  hardware  at  ten  cents ;  and  my  way- 
bill shows  we're  loaded  with  one  hundred  and  sixty- 
three  thousand  pounds  of  freight,  averaging,  I  reckon, 
at  least  fifteen  cents." 

"  Which  totals  up  between  twenty-five  and  twenty- 
six  thousand  dollars,  as  I  make  it,"  proffered  Joel. 

"  Of  course,  the  outfits  don't  earn  that  both  ways," 
reminded  Henry  Renick,  scouring  a  skillet.  "  They 
travel  back  empty." 

"  Well,  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  for  the  round 
trip  to  the  mountains  isn't  so  bad/'  said  Charley. 

"  No,"  grunted  Yank,  the  assistant  wagon  boss. 
"  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  are  makin'  their  profits, 
all  right.  They  can  sit  at  home  an'  take  things  easy. 
But  the  trail's  a  hard  life  for  the  rest  of  us," 

"  Don't  you  believe  they  take  it  easy,"  retorted 
Charley.  "  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Alex  Majors  taking 
it  easy  ?  And  look  at  Billy  Russell,  with  all  the  Leaven- 
worth  freighting  on  his  shoulders.  Besides,  they  know 
that  one  big  blizzard  or  one  Indian  war  would  wipe 
them  out  in  spite  of  their  hustle.  No;  they've  got  the 
worry ;  we've  got  the  picnic." 

'  'Twould  serve  'em  right  if  they  did  get  wiped  out 
once  in  a  while,"  growled  Yank,  who  evidently  was  as 
narrow-minded  as  his  eyes  indicated.  "  That  psalm- 
singin'  old  whiskers  has  too  many  notions.  No 
swearing  no  drinkin',  no  bull  skinnin',  no  fightin',  every 

221 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

man  read  the  Bible  an'  lay  up  on  Sunday!  An  outfit 
can't  do  freightin'  on  these  plains  an'  follow  any  such 
rules  as  those." 

"  See  here,"  bade  Charley,  sternly.  He  was  a  gritty 
little  chap.  "  You're  new  amongst  us,  my  man,  and 
I'll  warn  you  that  when  you  speak  to  us  of  Mr.  Majors 
or  Mr.  Russell  or  Mr.  Waddell  either,  you  want  to  do 
it  civilly.  They  may  have  their  peculiar  notions  of 
how  to  run  a  bull  outfit,  but  I  notice  they've  made  good 
already  with  about  twenty  million  pounds  of  Govern- 
ment freight,  and  that's  a  pretty  big  contract.  They're 
a  firm  whose  word  is  equal  to  a  United  States  bank- 
note ;  and  there's  not  a  man  who  ever  worked  for  them 
that  won't  stick  up  for  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell. 
A  kinder  man  than  Mr.  Majors  never  lived;  and  if  he 
tries  to  spread  a  little  Christianity  along  the  trail  all 
the  more  credit  to  him,  and  all  the  better  for  the  rest 
of  us.  We  need  some  of  that  out  here.  The  fact  is 
a  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  bull  train  is  the  best  on 
the  trail,  besides  being  decent. 

"  Well,"  rapped  Yank,  "  as  long  as  I  do  the  work 
I'm  hired  to  do  I'll  allow  no  man  to  tell  me  how  to  act. 
When  I  signed  that  pledge  for  the  whiskers  outfit  I 
didn't  mean  to  keep  it  an'  I  sha'n't  if  I  don't  choose." 

He  stalked  off;  they  gazed  after — Charley  with  a 
keen  glint  in  his  gray  eyes. 

"  There's  a  man "  spoke  Henry  the  mess  cook, 
"  who'll  take  it  out  on  animals  when  he  gets  mad 
He's  just  mean  enough." 


FREIGHTING  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS 

"  He'll  not  take  it  out  on  my  team,"  remarked  Joel, 
quietly.  "  I  don't  whip  my  bulls." 

"  No,  nor  on  mine,"  asserted  Henry. 

"  Anybody  who  thinks  he  has  to  beat  bulls  to  drive 
them  doesn't  know  how  to  drive,"  added  Charley. 

That  night  they  all  slept  on  the  ground  under 
blankets  and  quilts  and  buffalo  robes;  many  of  the  men 
slept  beneath  their  wagons.  The  neck-yokes  of  the 
oxen,  with  an  overcoat  folded  into  the  hollow  of  the 
curve  in  them,  made  comfortable  pillows.  At  least  so 
Davy  found  his  when,  to  be  a  veteran  bull  whacker,  he 
borrowed  a  yoke  and  tried.  Two  men  at  a  time  night- 
herded  the  cattle.  Davy,  being  an  "  extra,"  did  not 
go  on  herd  yet. 

The  mess  cooks  were  up  at  dawn  preparing  break- 
fast; and  speedily  the  collection  of  little  camps  was 
astir.  The  men  called  back  and  forth,  washed  at  the 
nearby  creek,  brought  water  in  buckets,  and  what  fuel 
they  found,  and  were  ready  for  breakfast  when  break- 
fast was  ready  for  them.  The  company,  Davy  learned, 
furnished  everything,  even  to  the  gunny  sacking  in 
which  buffalo  chips  and  bull  chips  were  gathered; 
everything  except  the  men's  revolvers.  These  the  men 
owned. 

By  the  time  that  the  breakfasts  were  over  the  cattle 
had  be^n  driven,  with  shouts  and  crack  of  whip,  into 
the  wagon  corral,  where  under  a  dust  cloud  they  stood 
grunting  and  jostling.  Yank  posted  himself  at  one 
gap  of  the  corral  Charley  at  the  other. 

223 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Catch  up !  Catch  up,  boys !  "  called  Charley,  the 
wagon  boss ;  the  cry  was  repeated,  and  the  men  sprang 
to  their  yokes.  Every  man  with  his  yoke  on  his  shoul- 
der, a  yoke  pin  in  his  hand,  another  in  his  mouth,  and 
an  ox-bow  slung  on  his  arm,  the  gang  poured  into  the 
corral.  It  was  an  interesting  sight,  and  a  number  of 
emigrants  who  had  camped  near  gathered  to  witness. 

There  was  a  rivalry  among  the  men  as  to  which 
should  yoke  up  first.  Davy  wondered  how  they  found 
their  bulls  so  readily;  but  in  rapid  succession  every 
man,  working  hard,  had  yoke  and  bows  on  a  pair  of 
his  team,  and  led  them  forth  to  his  wagon.  First  the 
yoke  was  laid  over  the  neck  of  a  bull,  the  bow  was 
slipped  under  and  the  pins  thrust  in  to  fasten  bow  to 
yoke;  then  the  other  bull  was  yoked;  and  this  done, 
dragging  the  chains  they  were  led  out  in  a  hurry. 
This  pair,  Davy  saw,  were  the  wheel  team — the  team 
next  to  the  wagon.  They  supported  the  wagon  pole, 
which  hung  in  a  ring  riveted  to  the  centre  of  the  yoke. 
As  soon  as  the  wheel  teams  were  hitched  to  the  wagon 
the  men  hastened  to  yoke  and  lead  out  the  lead  teams, 
which  were  the  teams  at  the  other  end  of  the  six. 
Then  the  space  was  filled  in  by  the  four  other  teams, 
all  the  chains  were  hooked,  the  men  straightened  out 
their  six  yoke,  and  the  train  was  ready  to  move. 

It  all  had  been  done,  as  Davy  thought,  very  quickly ; 
but  Joel  Badger,  whom  Davy  liked  exceedingly,  thought 
differently. 

"  We  make  rather  a  botch  of  it  at  first,"  said  Joel, 
224 


FREIGHTING  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS 

as  beside  his  fine  team  he  stood,  whip  in  hand,  waiting 
for  the  word  to  start.  "  Some  of  the  bulls  are  sure 
to  be  green  or  ornery,  and  not  used  to  their  drivers  or 
each  other.  After  they  have  pulled  together  for  a 
time  all  the  bulls  in  each  team  will  sorter  flock  in  a 
bunch,  in  the  corral,  and  a  fellow  won't  have  to  hunt 
through  the  herd.  You'll  see  some  fast  work  before 
you  get  to  the  end  of  the  trail." 

"  Aren't  the  mules  as  good  as  bulls  ? "  queried 
Davy. 

"  No.  They  used  to  have  mules  and  mule  skinners 
instead  of  bull  whackers  down  on  the  Santa  Fe  Trail, 
and  I  reckon  they've  used  'em  on  the  Overland  Trail, 
too.  Bulls  are  better  all  'round.  They  can  walk  as 
fast  as  a  mule  if  they're  pushed;  they  can  live  on  graz- 
ing that  a  mule  can't;  and  they're  not  so  liable  to  be 
stampeded.  If  Injuns  run  off  any  cattle  we  can  over- 
take 'em  by  mule  or  horse  and  fetch  'em  back.  No, 
for  freight  hauling  the  bulls  are  the  best.  Those  used 
down  on  the  southern  trails  are  Texas  cattle  largely; 
small-bodied  kind,  with  flaring  big  horns.  These  we 
use  in  the  north,  on  the  Overland  Trail,  are  some  Dur- 
hams,  some  Herefords,  and  so  on.  I  reckon  I've  got 
about  the  best  team  in  the  outfit;  they're  black  Gallo- 
ways, with  a  yoke  of  red  Devons." 

"  Line  out,  men !  Hep !  "  called  Wagon  Boss 
Charley. 

Joel  launched  his  whip  with  a  tremendous  crack 
above  the  backs  of  his  team. 
15  225 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"Haw,  Buck!    Muley!    Spot!  Yip!    Yip!" 

"Haw!  Whoa— gee!  Yip!  Yip!  Hep!"  The 
air  was  full  of  dust  and  shouts  and  cracking  of  whips; 
and  one  after  another  out  for  the  trail  rolled  the  huge 
wagons,  until  the  circle  of  the  corral  had  straightened 
into  the  day's  line. 

The  teamsters  walked  at  the  left  side  of  their  teams 
until,  when  the  wind  began  to  blow  the  dust  into  their 
faces,  they  changed  about  to  the  clear  side.  They 
sang,  they  joked,  occasionally  they  cracked  their  long 
whips,  and  now  and  then  one  perched  sideways  on  the 
wagon-pole  behind  the  wheel  yoke,  and  swinging  his 
legs  rode  a  short  distance.  But  nobody  entered  a 
wagon ;  the  men  either  walked  or  sat  on  the  pole  for  a 
brief  rest. 

Charley,  the  wagon  boss,  kept  position  near  the 
head  of  the  column;  Yank,  the  assistant  wagon  boss, 
usually  was  found  at  the  rear.  Davy  sometimes  was 
sent  back  with  word  from  Charley;  and  once  he  was 
dispatched  five  miles  ahead  to  take  a  message  to  an- 
other wagon  train.  He  enjoyed  these  gallops  over  the 
prairie  on  official  business,  and  he  enjoyed  riding  with 
Charley. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  the  make-up  of  a  team/' 
proffered  Charley,  who  seemed  disposed  to  teach  Dave 
as  much  as  he  could.  "  The  first  yoke  next  to  the 
wagon  are  the  wheel  yoke;  sometimes  we  call  them 
the  pole  yoke.  The  other  yokes  are  the  swing  yokes, 
until  you  come  to  the  leaders,  and  these  are  the  lead 

226 


FREIGHTING  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS 

yoke.  In  a  mule  team  the  middle  or  swing  spans  are 
the  pointers.  Fact  is,  a  four-span  mule  team  is  divided 
into  wheelers,  swing  team,  pointers  and  lead  team. 
You  didn't  time  us  this  morning,  did  you?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  confessed  Davy. 

"  I  hear  Mr.  Majors  timed  his  outfit  once,  when  it 
was  in  good  trim ;  and  it  was  sixteen  minutes  from  the 
moment  the  men  grabbed  their  yokes  until  the  teams 
were  hitched  and  the  train  was  ready  to  start.  That's 
pretty  fair  for  six  yoke  of  bulls.  I  don't  believe  we 
can  beat  it,  but  we're  going  to  try  after  a  bit." 

"  This  noon  I'll  show  you  how  to  pop  a  whip," 
called  Joel  to  Dave. 

The  men  used  their  whips  chiefly  for  the  noise  they 
made.  They  drove  with  the  whips ;  the  long  lash  flew 
out  over  the  backs  of  the  six  yoke  and  seemed  to  crack 
wherever  the  wielder  wished  it  to  crack.  Sometimes 
it  barely  flicked  the  back  of  some  ox  who  required  a 
little  urging,  but  it  never  landed  hard.  Those  bull 
whips  were  like  living  things,  and  in  the  hands  of 
Joel  and  his  rivals  were  as  accurate  as  a  rifle.  The  most 
of  the  men  carried  their  whips  with  the  lash  trailing 
over  their  shoulder  ready  to  be  jerked  forward  like  a 
cowboy's  rope.  Dave  felt  a  burning  ambition  to 
"  P°P  "  a  whip.  It  must  be  quite  an  art. 

The  trail  continued  to  be  lined  with  emigrants,  all 
pushing  west,  the  vast  majority  for  the  "  Pike's  Peak 
diggin's,"  but  a  few  tor  California  by  way  of  the 
Overland  Trail  to  Fort  Laramie,  and  on  over  the 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

South  Pass  to  Salt  Lake  and  the  farthest  West.  The 
road  was  littered  with  cast-off  stuff — so  much  of  it 
that  nobody  seemed  to  think  it  worth  picking  up  again. 

"  Great  times  for  the  Indians,"  quoth  Charley. 
"  But  they  don't  savvy  stoves  and  furniture  yet.  What 
they  like  most  is  the  hoop  iron  off  of  the  baled  hay 
that  the  Government  sends  out  to  the  posts.  That 
hoop  iron  is  fine  for  arrow  points ;  many  a  poor  fellow 
crossing  the  plains  is  killed  with  Government  hoop- 
iron/' 

"  Will  we  meet  many  Indians,  do  you  think  ?  "  asked 
Davy. 

Charley  shook  his  head. 

"  We  may  meet  a  few  gangs  of  beggars ;  but  the 
trail  is  too  thick  just  now  for  much  trouble.  The  In- 
dians haven't  got  roused  yet  and  started  in  on  the 
war-path.  But  they  will,  later.  I  reckon  if  you  get 
off  the  trail  a  ways  you'll  meet  with  plenty  trouble, 
though.  On  the  trail  there  are  so  many  outfits  that 
they  can  help  each  other,  you  see.  The  Indians  are 
learning  to  shy  off  from  bull  outfits.  We're  ready  for 
them  any  time,  and  it  costs  them  too  many  scalps. 
But  when  these  plains  begin  to  be  settled  with  ranches 
then  look  out  for  the  Indians." 

That  noon  the  train  halted  on  the  far  side  of  a 
creek.  According  to  Joel,  trains  always  tried  to  cross 
a  creek  before  camping,  in  case  a  sudden  storm  might 
come  and  hold  the  train  back  by  swelling  the  ford. 
They  corralled,  this  noon,  by  a  new  evolution.  One- 


FREIGHTING  ACROSS  THE  PLAINS 

half  the  train,  in  regular  order,  formed  a  half  of  the 
circle;  the  other  half  then  formed  the  second  half  of 
the  circle.  This  was  called  corralling  with  the  right 
and  left  wings. 

While  dinner  was  being  cooked  and  the  bulls  were 
herded  off  to  water  and  graze,  the  men  lounged  in  the 
shade  of  their  wagons.  Dinner  was  the  same  as  supper 
and  breakfast :  fat  salt  pork  or  "  sowbelly/'  which  came 
to  the  plate  in  slabs  six  or  eight  inches  thick ;  hot  bread 
baked  in  the  kettle-like  Dutch  ovens;  beans  from  the 
supply  baked  in  the  ashes  the  night  before;  and  black 
coffee  with  sugar.  That  was  the  regulation  until  the 
buffalo  and  antelope  country  was  reached.  The  last  of 
the  sugar  was  used,  too;  after  this  camp,  all  the  way 
to  Denver  the  coffee  would  be  sugarless.  But  that  was 
only  ordinary.  Nobody  objected  to  the  menu;  appe- 
tites were  splendid. 

"  Here,"  spoke  Joel,  after  dinner,  rising,  to  Dave. 
"  I  said  I'd  show  you  how  to  pop  a  whip,  didn't  I  ?  " 

"Joel  can  do  it,  all  right,"  approved  Charley;  and 
several  other  men  nodded,  agreemg  with  him. 

And  Bull  Whacker  Joel  could  A  heavy  thing  was 
that  whip;  the  lash,  of  braided  buffalo  hide,  was 
eighteen  feet  long  and  thick  like  a  snake  in  the  middle. 
It  had  a  cracker  of  buck-skin,  six  inches  long,  split  at  the 
end;  and  a  hickory  stock  eighteen  inches  long.  Joe! 
said  it  cost  eighteen  dollars  in  Leavenworth.  Flicking 
it  forward,  from  where  it  trailed  on  the  ground,  he 
landed  the  tip  wherever  he  wished.  With  the  cracker 

229  •• 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

he  picked  up  small  objects  at  the  full  extent  of  the  lash ; 
he  snipped  the  tips  from  the  sage  and  cut  blossoms; 
and  how  he  "  popped  " ! 

"  He's  a  boss  bull- whip  slinger,"  laughed  Charley, 
approvingly.  "  You'll  never  see  a  better  one  to  pick 
flies  off  the  lead  team/' 

"  I've  seen  others, "  uttered  Yank,  who  somehow 
appeared  to  have  a  grudge  against  the  train.  "  These 
fancy  tricks  will  do  for  show,  but  give  me  the  man  who 
can  spot  a  bull  twenty  feet  off  an'  take  a  piece  of  hide 
out  with  the  cracker.  I  don't  want  no  fancy  fly-killer 
in  my  train.  Bull  whips  are  made  for  business." 

"  You  don't  want  bull  whackers ;  you  want 
butchers,"  retorted  Joel,  contemptuously.  "  Here, 
Dave,  try  your  luck.  Give  him  room,  boys." 

Dave  tried,  but  the  long  lash  on  the  short  handle 
proved  a  queer  thing  to  handle.  It  persisted  in  flying 
crooked  or  falling  short,  and  several  times  he  almost 
hanged  himself  or  narrowly  escaped  losing  an  ear. 
However,  before  he  surrendered  the  whip  to  Joel  he 
had  got  the  knack  of  popping  it;  that  was  something. 

"  Hurray !  "  encouraged  Joel.  "  We'll  make  a  bull 
whacker  of  you  before  the  end  of  this  trip.  You'll 
be  able  to  pop  a  whip  with  the  best  of  us." 

Davy  scarcely  expected  this  skill;  but  he  was  re- 
solved to  do  so  well  that  he  could  show  Billy  Cody. 


XVI 

YANK  RAISES  TROUBLE 


THE  bull  train  plodded  on  and  on,  day  by  day, 
across  the  rolling  prairies,  whose  soil,  black,  made 
blackish  dust.  One  day  was  much  like  another.  The 
principal  excitement  was  the  passing  of  the  stages. 
The  Leavenworth  &  Pike's  Peak  Express  Company  had 
changed  from  the  Smoky  Hill  route  to  Denver,  and 
were  running  on  the  famous  Platte  trail  now :  by  the 
Government  road  from  Leavenworth  to  the  Platte  at 
Fort  Kearney,  thence  up  the  Platte  and  the  South 
Platte — the  same  road  that  the  bull  train  was  taking. 

Regularly  once  a  day  the  stage  from  the  east  and 
the  stage  from  the  west  passed  the  train,  which,  like 
everything  else,  drew  aside  at  the  sign  of  the  well- 
known  dust  ahead  or  behind,  and  with  wave  of  whip 
and  shout  of  voice  greeted  the  flight  of  the  four  mules 
and  the  heavy  coach.  At  gallop  or  brisk  trot  the  stage 
swept  by — the  driver  scarcely  deigning  a  glance  at  bull 
whackers — and  disappeared  in  its  own  cloud. 

For  the  bull  train  there  were  two  halts  each  day: 
at  noon  and  at  evening,  when  the  wagons  were  cor- 
ralled, usually  by  the  right  and  left  wing,  the  oxen 
unyoked,  and  camp  made  for  rest  and  meals.  Then, 

231 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

about  one  o'clock  and  about  six  in  the  morning,  the 
march  was  resumed.  The  men  walked  beside  their 
wheel  cattle  and  by  stepping  out  a  little  and  "  throw- 
ing "  the  whip  to  the  full  extent  of  lash,  stock  and  arm, 
they  could  flick  the  backs  of  their  lead  cattle. 

However,  they  rarely  needed  to  use  the  whip  as  a 
punishment.  The  whole  train  maintained  the  pace  set 
by  Joel's  lead  team  and  followed  that.  Each  team  kept 
close  behind  the  wagon  in  front  of  them,  so  that  the 
lead  yoke's  noses  almost  touched  the  rear  end.  It  was 
a  close  formation,  preserved  by  the  bulls  themselves 
without  urging.  The  teamsters  really  had  little  to 
do  while  on  the  level  trail.  But  when  the  trail  was 
very  soft,  or  creeks  or  gullies  had  to  be  crossed,  then 
there  was  work  for  all.  Sometimes  the  teams  were 
doubled,  until  ten  or  twelve  yoke  of  bulls  were 
stretched  as  one  team,  hauling  the  heavy  wagons  across 
in  turn. 

It  was  a  great  sight — the  long  line  of  panting, 
puffing  oxen,  with  nostrils  wide  and  eyes  bulging  and 
muscles  of  neck  and  back  knotted,  tugging  all  to- 
gether, while  the  whips  cracked  and  the  men  shouted, 
and  slowly  the  huge  white-topped  wagon,  swaying  and 
creaking,  and  weighing,  with  its  load,  five  tons  or  more, 
rolled  onward  out  of  difficulty. 

At  such  times  Davy  felt  like  giving  the  sweaty  bulls 
a  cheer. 

In  the  morning  early,  before  the  sun  blazed  and  the 
dust  and  wind  gathered,  the  plains  were  wonderfully 

232 


YANK  RAISES  TROUBLE 

peaceful,  and  in  the  clear  air  the  flowers  seemed  many 
and  the  antelope  and  rabbits  and  prairie  dogs  more 
lively.  In  the  evening  the  men  joked  and  told  stories 
and  sang  songs  around  their  camp-fire  ashes.  The 
favorite  songs  appeared  to  be  one  called  "  Days  of 
Forty-nine/'  another  called  "  Betsy  From  Pike,"  and 
another  called  "  Joe  Bowers."  This  was  a  very  long 
song,  especially  when  the  men  made  up  verses  to  fit  it. 
Charley  said  that  anybody  could  begin  it  at  Leaven- 
worth  and  end  it  at  the  mountains.  But  the  song  that 
Davy  liked  the  best  was  sung  by  "  Sailor  Bill,"  one  of 
the  bull  whackers.  It  was  "  The  Bay  of  Biscay,  O !  " 
and  in  a  deep  bass  voice  Bill  sang  it  finely,  because  he 
had  been  a  sailor : 

Loud  roared  the  dreadful  thunder, 

The  rain  a  deluge  show'rs; 
The  clouds  were  rent  asunder 
By   lightning's  vivid  pow'rs. 

The  night  both  drear  and  dark 

Our  poor  devoted  bark, 

Till  next  day 

There  she  lay, 

In  the  Bay  of  Biscay  O ! 

It  was  a  strange  song  to  sing  out  here  in  the  midst 
of  the  dry  plains;  but  with  Bill  booming  and  his  com- 
rades joining  in  the  chorus  it  sounded  particularly 
good. 

The  trail  was  divided  off  by  various  names,  as  city 
blocks  are  divided  off  by  streets.  Most  of  the  men 
could  call  the  route  by  heart.  There  was  Salt  Creek 

233 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

and  Grasshopper  Creek  and  Walnut  Creek  and  Elm 
Creek  and  the  Big  Blue,  and  the  Big  and  Little  Sandy, 
and  Ash.  Point  and  the  Little  Blue  and  Thirty-two  Mile 
Creek  and  Sand  Hill  Pond  and  the  Platte  River  and 
then  Fort  Kearney,  where,  294  miles  from  Leaven- 
worth,  the  main  Overland  Trail  to  Denver  and  Salt 
Lake  was  struck. 

On  the  Little  Blue,  before  reaching  Fort  Kearney, 
the  train  had  its  first  accident — and  a  peculiar  accident 
that  was.  Davy  first  learned  of  it  when,  as  he  came 
riding  back  from  an  errand  for  Charley  to  another 
train  behind,  he  saw  a  wagon  at  the  middle  of  his  train 
pull  short  and  heard  a  shout  and  saw  teamsters,  their 
teams  also  halted,  go  running  to  the  place. 

"What's  the  matter?  Rattlers?"  This  was  the 
first  thought — that  the  teamster  had  been  bitten  by  a 
rattlesnake. 

"  No.    Somebody  run  over !  " 

The  rear  half  of  the  train  had  stopped,  of  course ; 
the  fore  half,  after  pulling  on  a  little  way,  also  had 
stopped.  Charley  came  galloping  back,  Yank  gal- 
loped forward,  and  so  did  Davy.  The  men  ahead  had 
gathered  in  a  group  and  were  carrying  something  out 
from  under  the  wagons.  It  was  Sailor  Bill,  poor  fel- 
low. He  had  been  riding  sitting  on  the  pole  of  his 
wagon  behind  his  wheel  yoke,  and  he  must  have 
dozed,  for  he  had  fallen  off  and  the  wheels  of  his 
wagon  had  passed  over  him. 

"  My  old  lead  bulls  snorted  and  jumped  like  as  if 
234 


YANK  RAISES  TROUBLE 

they'd  stepped  on  a  rattler,"  was  explaining  the  team- 
ster who  had  shouted  and  halted  his  team.  "  I  thought 
it  was  a  rattler,  of  course;  but  when  I  looked  I  saw 
him!  Right  under  my  second  swing  team's  hoofs! 
But  he  was  done  breathing  before  ever  we  got  to  him. 
I'm  sartin  of  that.  His  own  wagon  did  for  him;  and 
mighty  quick." 

"  Yes,"  they  all  nodded  soberly,  "  poor  Bill  like  as 
not  never  knew  what  was  happening  to  him." 

"  Anybody  know  who  his  folks  are  or  where?  "  de- 
manded Charley. 

Heads  were  shaken. 

"  Never  heard  him  say.  He  ran  away  to  sea  when 
he  was  a  kid  and  never  went  home  again,  I  reckon." 

"  Well,"  uttered  Charley,  "  we'll  do  the  best  we 


can." 


It  was  a  solemn  company  which  with  bared  heads 
stood  about  the  spot  where  they  laid  Sailor  Bill.  A  deep 
hole  was  dug  beside  the  trail,  and  what  was  left  of 
Sailor  Bill,  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  was  lowered  into  it. 
Charley  read  a  chapter  from  the  Bible,  the  hole  was 
filled,  and  the  wagons  made  a  little  detour  to  drive 
across  the  spot  and  pack  the  soil  so  that  the  coyotes 
would  not  be  tempted  to  dig  there. 

"  We'll  certainly  miss  Bill  and  his  *  Bay  of  Biscay, 
O ! '  "  said  the  men ;  and  they  did. 

Henry  Renick  was  appointed  by  Charley  to  Sailor 
Bill's  wagon  and  team,  and  the  train  rolled  on. 

Fort  Kearney  was  four  days,  or  fifty  miles,  ahead. 
285 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

On  the  fourth  day  a  great  dust,  crossing  the  Leaven- 
worth  trail,  made  a  cloud  against  the  horizon;  and 
Charley,  pointing,  remarked  to  Davy :  "  There's  the 
Platte  trail.  We'll  be  in  Kearney  to-night." 

Fort  Kearney  was  located  on  the  south  bank  of  the 
Platte  River,  at  the  head  of  a  large  island  thirty  miles 
long,  which  was  called  Grand  Island.  The  military 
reservation  extended  on  both  sides  of  the  river.  The 
fort  was  not  nearly  so  pleasant  or  so  well  built  as  Fort 
Leavenworth.  The  bluffs  and  the  country  around 
were  bare  and  gray,  and  the  buildings  were  old  frame 
buildings,  rather  tumble-down.  The  only  timber  was 
on  Grand  Island,  which  made  a  green  spot  in  the  land- 
scape. 

Fort  Kearney  was  a  division  point  on  the  Over- 
land Trail  for  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell.  Charley 
reported  to  the  company  agent  here,  and  the  train  laid 
up  for  a  day  to  rest  and  restock  with  what  provisions 
were  needed.  The  meat  was  running  short,  for  buf- 
falo had  been  scarce  all  the  way  from  Leavenworth. 

At  Fort  Kearney  the  Leavenworth  trail  joined  the 
main  trail  that  came  in  from  Omaha  and  Nebraska 
City.  That  trail  crossed  the  Platte  just  above  Fort 
Kearney,  and  there  met  the  Leavenworth  trail ;  and  as 
one  they  proceeded  west  up  the  south  bank  of  the 
Platte. 

People  at  Fort  Kearney  claimed  that  on  some  days 
500  wagons  passed,  headed  either  west  or  east.  Joel 
Badger  started  in  to  count  the  number  of  teams  in 

236 


YANK  RAISES  TROUBLE 

sight  throughout  an  hour,  but  quit  tired.  And  truly, 
the  scene  at  old  Fort  Kearney  was  a  stirring  one :  the 
long  lines  of  white-topped  wagons  slowly  toiling  in 
from  the  east  and  the  southeast,  and,  uniting  above  the 
fort,  toiling  on  out,  under  their  dust  cloud,  up  the 
river  course  into  the  west. 

Charley  did  not  delay  here  longer  than  was  abso- 
lutely necessary,  and  Davy,  as  well  as  others  in  the 
train,  was  glad  to  be  away  on  the  trail  again.  Yank, 
the  assistant  wagon  boss,  and  Charley,  his  chief,  almost 
had  a  fight,  despite  the  pledge  that  they  had  taken,  for 
Yank  had  begun  drinking  in  the  groggeries  of  vicious 
Dobytown  on  the  edge  of  the  post  and  was  uglier  than 
usual. 

"  You  hear  what  I  say,"  spoke  up  Charley  loud 
enough  for  everybody  else  to  hear,  too.  "  Any  more 
of  this  and  you're  discharged  without  pay.  Those  are 
company  orders  and  you  knew  it  when  you  signed  the 
roll." 

"  The  company  that  discharges  me  without  pay  I've 
earned  will  wish  it  hadn't,"  snarled  Yank. 

"  I'll  take  the  responsibility,"  retorted  Charley, 
angrily.  "If  you  don't  obey  company  rules  you're 
discharged;  see?  And  if  I  can't  enforce  those  rules 
I'll  discharge  myself." 

Yank  said  "Bah!"  and  swaggered  off;  but  he 
stayed  away  from  Dobytown. 

Fort  Kearney  seemed  to  mark  a  dividing  point  of 
the  country  as  well  as  of  the  great  trail.  The  country 

237 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

from  Leavenworth  up  through  Kansas  had  been 
prairie-like,  with  many  wooded  streams  and  consid- 
erable green  meadows.  But  here  at  the  Platte  the 
greenness  dwindled,  and  the  trail  wound  along  amidst 
sand  and  clay  which  grew  chiefly  sage  brush  and  buf- 
falo grass. 

The  Platte  was  a  shallow,  shifty  stream,  full  of 
quicksands,  so  that  drivers  must  be  very  careful  in 
crossing.  Charley  told  of  a  time  when  he  saw  a  whole 
freight  wagon,  load  and  all,  sink  and  disappear  in  what 
looked  to  be  hard  sand  under  only  two  inches  of 
water!  The  trees  in  sight  were  for  the  most  part  on 
the  islands  in  the  river,  for  all  timber  within  easy  reach 
along  the  trail  had  long  ago  been  cut  and  burned  by  the 
emigrants.  Even  buffalo  chips  were  very  scarce,  so 
that  Charley  took  pains  to  camp  on  the  sites  of  previous 
camps,  where  cattle  had  left  fuel  similar  to  buffalo 
chips,  although  not  so  good. 

The  buffalo  chips  burned  slowly  and  held  the  fire 
a  long  time,  making  splendid  coals.  The  men  seemed 
to  think  that  this  was  because  they  had  been  lying  out 
for  years,  maybe,  and  were  well  baked;  whereas  the 
cow  chips  and  the  bull  chips  were  newer. 

The  Platte  was  frequently  bordered  by  high  clay 
bluffs;  and  where  the  road  climbed  or  descended  the 
scene  at  night  was  very  pretty,  with  all  the  camp-fires 
of  the  emigrants  and  other  bull  trains  sparkling  high 
and  low.  The  bluffs  also  were  good  coverts  for  In- 
dians ;  and  Charley  ordered  that  each  mess  have  a  man 


YANK  RAISES  TROUBLE 

on  guard  all  night.  Fort  Kearney  was  considered  the 
jumping-off  place  for  the  Indian  country  and  the  buf- 
falo country.  Beyond,  the  country  was,  as  Charley 
said,  "  wide  open." 

"  To-morrow  we'll  cross  Plum  Creek,"  quoth  Joel 
to  Davy  on  the  second  day  out  from  Kearney.  "  We 
ought  to  see  buffalo  at  Plum  Creek;  'most  always  do." 

Plum  Creek  was  330  miles  from  Leaven  worth  and 
thirty-six  out  of  Fort  Kearney.  As  they  approached 
it,  Charley  and  others  uttered  a  glad  cry,  for  buffalo 
were  in  sight  by  the  hundreds.  They  were  grazing  on 
the  hills  and  flats  north  of  the  river.  Some  emigrants 
already  were  among  them,  chasing  them  hither  and 
thither ;  so  Captain  Charley  ordered  Andy  Johnson  and 
another  teamster  called  "  Kentuck  "  (because  he  was 
from  Kentucky)  to  take  Davy's  and  Yank's  mules  and 
go  with  him  after  meat. 

That  was  as  quickly  done  as  said.  Away  the 
three  spurred  through  the  shallow  water  and  on. 

"  We'll  have  short  ribs  and  roast  hump  to-night, 
boys,"  shouted  back  Charley.  He  and  Andy  and  Ken- 
tuck  were  good  hunters. 

This  left  Yank  in  charge  of  the  train.  He  had 
not  been  pleasant  since  that  scene  at  Kearney,  when 
he  and  Charley  had  the  row;  just  now  he  was  more 
irritable  and  mean,  because  he  had  to  walk.  He 
grumbled  and  snarled,  and  said  a  number  of  unkind 
things  about  Charley  which  Dave  knew  were  not  true. 

"Wants  to  take  the  huntin'  himself,  that  feller 

239 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

does,"  grumbled  Yank,  "  an'  leaves  us  other  fellers 
to  hoof  it.  Who  ever  heard  of  an  assistant  wagon  boss 
havin'  to  walk?  I  didn't  hire  out  to  walk,  you  bet." 
And  he  yelped  out  to  Joel:  "Hurry  on  your  bulls 
there,  you  lead  team  man.  Give  'em  the  gad  or  you'll 
get  stuck." 

For  the  head  of  the  train  had  reached  a  sandy  hol- 
low, and  Joel's  team  were  tugging  through  it.  The 
sand  rolled  in  a  stream  from  the  tires  and  from  half 
way  up  the  spokes;  but  the  twelve  bulls — the  ten 
blacks,  and  the  two  burly  reds  forming  the  pole  yoke — 
were  pulling  together  nobly. 

"They  don't  need  it,"  returned  Joel,  shortly. 
"  They're  doing  well.  Let  'em  alone." 

"  You've  held  the  lead  so  long  and  done  as  you 
please  that  you've  got  sassy,"  sneered  Yank.  "  You 
need  a  new  boss,  an'  now  you've  got  him,  see?  I  tell 
you  to  hustle  those  fat  pets  o'  yourn  along  an'  give 
somebody  else  a  chance  in  here.  Do  you  call  that 
pullin'  ?  Which  way  you  movin'  ?  Touch  'em  up,  my 
man;  touch  'em  up." 

"  I'm  driving  this  team,"  answered  Joel,  roundly, 
"  and  I  don't  need  advice  from  any  assistant  wagon 
master  as  to  how  to  drive.  They  pull  better  without 
the  lash."  And  he  sung  out  vigorously :  "  Buck ! 
Muley !  Hep,  now !  Hep  with  you !  " 

The  wagon  moved  steadily,  ploughing  through  the 
sand  and  encouraging  the  teams  behind.  But  Joel's 

240 


YANK  RAISES  TROUBLE 

reply  seemed  to  enrage  Yank — who  had  been  waiting 
for  just  such  a  chance. 

"  Oh,  gimme  that  whip !  "  he  snarled,  and  snatched 
it  from  Joel's  hand.  "  Get  out  o'  there  with  you!  "  he 
yelled.  The  lash  flew  hissing;  the  snapper  landed 
with  a  distinct  "thut!"  on  the  haunch  of  the  right 
lead  ox;  it  jerked  smartly  back  and  out-sprang  at  the 
spot  where  it  had  struck  a  rim  of  blood  on  the  sweaty, 
dusty  black  hide.  The  whip  end  had  cut  through  to 
the  quick! 

As  fast  as  lash  could  travel  (and  that  was  fast 
indeed)  the  other  lead  ox  felt  like  smart  and  humilia- 
tion. With  frenzied,  panting  snort  and  groan  the 
yoke  quivered  and  strained,  setting  shoulders  forward 
and  fairly  jerking  the  swing  yokes  after  them.  It  was 
an  unnecessary  strain  and  Davy  knew  it. 

"  Whoa-oa-oa,  boys ! "  soothed  Joel.  "  Easy 
now !  "  And  turning  like  a  tiger  on  Yank,  who  again 
was  swinging  the  whip,  he  knocked  him  flat  on  his 
back. 

The  team  went  toiling  on  but  Joel  stood,  panting, 
over  Yank,  and  watched  him  scramble  up.  Yank's 
hand  flew  to  his  revolver  butt — and  there  it  stopped; 
for  when  he  got  that  far  he  was  looking  into  the  big 
muzzle  of  Joel's  own  Colt's  navy. 

"  None  o'  that  either !  "  growled  Joel,  boiling  mad. 
"  Gimme  that  whip,"  and  he  snatched  it  back  again. 
"  I've  a  notion  to  lay  it  on  your  back.  You  call  your- 
self a  man  and  abuse  dumb  beasts  that  are  doing  the 

16  241 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

best  they  can  and  doing  it  well  ?  "  He  shook  his  big 
fist  in  Yank's  evil  face,  which  was  turning  from  the 
red  of  anger  to  the  white  of  fierce  hate.  "  You  touch 
my  team  again  and  I'll  kill  you!"  roared  Joel.  "I 
told  you  they  were  to  be  let  alone  and  I  mean  it  Stick 
that  in  your  pipe  and  smoke  it." 

Yank  said  nothing.  His  eye,  where  Joel's  fist  had 
thudded,  was  swollen  shut,  but  out  of  the  other  he 
glared  steadily;  and  while  he  did  not  move  a  muscle 
(he  knew  better  than  to  move  with  that  revolver 
muzzle  trained  upon  him),  if  a  look  could  have  killed, 
then  Joel  would  have  dropped  in  his  tracks. 

Joel  slowly  backed  away,  keeping  his  Colt's  ready. 

"  Remember/'  he  warned.  "  Don't  try  that  again." 
And  finally,  having  backed  far  enough,  beyond  the 
fringe  of  men  who  had  gathered,  he  hastened  after 
his  wagon.  Davy's  heart  could  beat  again. 

"  Joel  was  right  in  this,"  proclaimed  a  teamster. 

'  You  may  be  assistant  wagon  boss  but  even  the  boss 

himself  has  no  business  whipping  another  man's  bulls." 

And  as  the  men  resought  their  wagons  heads  wagged 

and  voices  murmured  in  agreement  therewith. 

As  for  Yank,  he  was  growing  red  again;  he  cau- 
tiously wiped  his  injured  eye,  his  hand  twitched  upon 
the  butt  of  his  revolver,  and  picking  up  his  hat  hfe 
stumbled  forward  as  if  in  a  dream.  The  way  he  acted 
was  more  dangerous,  it  seemed  to  Davy,  than  if  he  had 
stormed  and  threatened.  And  Davy  was  afraid  for 
Joel. 

242 


YANK  RAISES  TROUBLE 

The  train  passed  through  the  sandy  hollow  without 
further  mishap ;  and  when  they  climbed  out  and  pulled 
on  over  the  next  rise  they  met  the  buffalo  hunters 
returning.  The  mules*  saddles  were  red  with  meat, 
and  the  three  riders  were  well  pleased  with  their  hunt. 

The  sun  was  low  over  the  trail  before,  making 
golden  the  dust  of  travel. 

"  We'll  camp  here,  boys,"  called  Charley,  cheerfully, 
"  and  do  what  butchering  we  need  on  those  buffalo 
carcasses.  Swing  out,  Joel.  Whew,  man !  You  must 
have  had  to  lay  on  the  lash  a  bit  heavy,  didn't  you?  " 
For  the  haunches  of  the  lead  team  were  bloody  welted. 
More  than  that,  the  cracker  seemed  to  have  taken  a 
piece  of  hide  out  the  size  of  a  quarter! 

"  No,"  said  Joel,  briefly.    "  I  didn't." 

"  Well,"  continued  Charley,  "  let's  corral  where  we 
are.  Yank,  you — what's  the  matter  with  your  eye, 
man?" 

"  I  fell  down,"  answered  Yank,  steadily.  And  at 
the  laugh  which  went  up  he  reddened  deeply  again, 
and  again  his  hand  twitched. 


XVII 

DAVY  "  THE  BULL  WHACKER  " 


CHARLEY  scanned  him  quizzically  for  a  moment. 
'  You  must  have  fallen  mighty  hard,"  he  remarked. 
"Who  hit  you.  Yank?" 

"  That  lead  teamster  o'  yours,"  growled  Yank,  with 
a  string  of  oaths.  "  I'll  get  him  for  that.  No  man  can 
strike  me  and  stay  long  on  this  earth.  The  dirty 
hound !  "  And  he  abused  Joel  horridly. 

Joel  heard  the  loud  words,  and  suddenly  leaving  his 
team  where  it  stood,  came  walking  fast. 

None  of  that!"  he  called.  "  You  keep  a  quiet 
tongue  in  your  head.  You  can  see  what  he  did  to  my 
bulls,  Charley.  He  laid  my  whip  on  them.  I  allow 
no  man  to  cut  my  bulls.  I  never  cut  them  myself. 
They  were  doing  as  well  as  they  could." 

Charley  quickly  stepped  between  the  two — for  the 
hand  of  each  was  poised  for  the  dart  to  revolver  butt. 

"That's  enough,"  he  bade.  "There's  to  be  no 
fighting  in  this  train  and  no  swearing.  You  both  know 
that.  Give  me  your  guns.  Pass  'em  over." 

"  All  right,  Charley,"  answered  Joel.  "  Here  are 
mine  if  you  say  so.  I  don't  need  a  gun  to  deal  with 
that  fellow  "  And  unbuckling  his  belt  he  tossed  it 
aside. 

244 


DAVY  "THE  BULL  WHACKER" 

"  Now  it's  up  to  you,  Yank,"  addressed  Charley. 

Yank  flushed. 

"  My  guns  are  my  own,  an'  I'm  goin'  to  wear  'em 
s  long  as  I  please,"  he  blurted. 

"  No,  you  aren't,  Yank/'  retorted  Charley,  coolly. 
Booking  him  in  the  eye,  he  walked  straight  to  him. 
"  You  needn't  give  them  to  me;  I'll  take  them.  See?  " 

He  was  a  little  man,  was  Charley,  but  he  had  a  great 
heart  and  the  nerve  to  back  it  up.  Reaching,  while 
Yank  stood  uncertain  and  cowed,  he  jerked  both  re- 
volvers from  the  holsters ;  then  he  stepped  back  to  put 
his  foot  on  Joel's  belt. 

"  That's  enough,"  he  said.  "  I  want  this  matter  to 
end  right  here.  If  you  laid  whip  on  another  man's 
bulls  when  there  wasn't  any  need  of  it  I  reckon  you  got 
about  what  you  deserved.  We're  not  bull  skinners  in 
this  train.  But  I'll  have  no  fighting  in  the  outfit.  You 
fellows  can  settle  your  differences  after  you  leave.  Go 
on  and  finish  your  corralling,  Joel.  Yank,  you  saddle 
a  fresh  mule  from  the  cawy  and  ride  out  and  help 
Kentuck  and  Andy  butcher  those  buffalo.  Your  mule's 
plumb  worn  out.  Hear  me?  " 

Yank  glared  at  him  for  a  moment,  but  Charley  re- 
turned eye  for  eye.  Presently  Yank  whirled  on  his 
heel,  and  snatching  the  bridle  of  his  mule  strode  off, 
muttering,  to  the  cawy.  Joel  went  back  to  his  team. 
Charley  shook  the  cylinders  out  of  the  four  revolvers, 
dropped  them  into  his  pockets,  and  stowed  the  useless 
weapons  in  one  of  the  wagons.  The  train  proceeded 

245 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

about  the  business  of  the  hour,  and  Davy,  whose  heart 
had  been  beating  high,  helped. 

"  The  ride  out  yonder  will  help  to  cool  his  blood  a 
bit,"  commented  one  of  the  teamsters,  referring  to 
Yank — who,  leading  Andy  and  Kentuck,  was  galloping 
furiously  away.  As  for  Joel,  he  was  acting  as  if  the 
recent  trouble  was  ancient  history — except  that  when 
he  examined  the  wounds  on  his  two  beloved  oxen  he 
shook  his  head. 

The  teams  had  been  unhitched  from  the  wagons 
and  were  being  led  aside  to  water  and  pasture,  when  a 
sudden  shout  arose. 

"  Look  at  Yank !  Look  at  him,  will  you !  Where's 
he  going?  " 

Everybody  stared.  Leaving  Andy  and  Kentuck 
behind,  Yank,  without  slackening  pace,  was  galloping 
on  and  on  through  the  area  where  the  buffalo  herd  had 
been  and  where  the  carcasses  were  lying.  Andy  and 
Kentuck  yelled  at  him,  but  he  paid  no  heed.  And  from 
the  wagon  train  welled  another  chorus  of  cries. 

"  He's  taking  French  leave!    He's  deserting!  " 

"  Let  him  go,  boys,"  quoth  Charley,  coloring,  but 
making  no  move.  "  I'll  send  him  his  guns  sometime ; 
but  he's  forfeited  his  pay.  If  he  wants  to  have  things 
that  way,  good  enough.  We're  better  oft  without  him." 

The  men  grunted,  satisfied;  nobody  liked  the  un- 
ruly, foul-mouthed  Yank.  Soon  he  disappeared  over 
a  rise  and  he  was  not  seen  again  by  Davy  for  a  year. 

The  camp  that  evening  seemed  much  pleasanter 

246 


DAVY  "THE  BULL  WHACKER" 

without  the  presence  of  Yank.  With  him  absent  and 
with  plenty  of  buffalo  meat  on  hand,  the  men  laughed 
and  joked  to  even  an  unusual  extent.  It  was  a  care- 
free camp. 

"  Here  are  your  guns,  Joel,"  said  Charley,  re- 
turning them.  "  Guess  I  can  trust  you  with  them  now. 
Well,  we're  a  short  train,  with  two  men  shy.  I'd  rather 
lose  Yank  than  Sailor  Bill;  but  they're  both  gone. 
Kentuck,  you're  promoted  to  assistant  wagon  boss; 
and  I'll  have  to  turn  your  team  over  to  Dave,  here. 
They're  well  broken  and  I  reckon  he  can  drive  them. 
How  about  it,  Dave  ?  " 

Davy  was  somewhat  flustered.  He  to  be  a  bull 
whacker  ?  Hurrah ! 

"  I'll  try,"  he  stammered. 

"  Sure  you  will ;  and  you'll  make  good.  Fact  is, 
those  bulls  drive  themselves.  But  you  can  learn  a  heap, 
anyway.  All  right.  You  take  Kentuck's  outfit  in  the 
morning  and  go  ahead.  The  boys  will  help  you  if  you 
get  in  trouble.  I  can't  spare  Joel ;  he's  too  good  a  man 
in  the  lead,  and  we  need  him  there." 

That  night  Davy  could  scarcely  go  to  sleep.  He 
was  excited.  He  wondered  if  he  really  could  "  make 
good  "  as  a  bull  whacker.  He  had  practised  with  the 
whip  and  could  "  throw  "  it  pretty  well,  although  it 
was  a  long  lash  for  a  boy.  But  he  had  found  out  that 
to  wield  a  bull  whip  and  "  pop  "  it  required  a  certain 
knack  rather  than  mere  strength ;  and,  besides,  the  bull 
teams  behind  kept  up  with  the  wagons  before  as  a 


BUFFALO  BELL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

matter  of  habit.  Of  course,  corralling  and  yoking  were 
the  chief  difficulties.  But  he  had  watched  closely  what 
the  men  did  every  day,  and  he  though  that  he  knew 
how,  at  least  At  any  rate,  he  was  bound  to  try.  To 
handle  twelve  oxen  seemed  to  him  a  bigger  job  than 
being  a  messenger. 

It  was  a  proud  Dave  who,  early  in  the  morning, 
after  breakfast,  at  the  cry  "  Catch  up,  men !  Catch 
up !  "  shouldered  his  yoke  and  the  two  bows,  and 
sturdily  trotted  for  the  corral.  He  knew  how  to  begin. 
The  proper  method  was  to  lay  the  heavy  yoke  across 
one  shoulder  with  the  bows  hanging  from  your  arm. 
One  pin  was  carried  in  your  mouth,  the  other  in  your 
hand.  The  ends  of  the  bows  passed  up  through  the 
yoke,  so  that  only  one  end  needed  a  pin  thrust  through 
above  the  yoke  to  hold  it ;  the  other  end  stayed  of  itself. 

Davy  felt  that  the  men  were  watching  him  out  of 
the  corners  of  their  eyes.  He  heard  somebody  say, 
aside,  bantering :  "  Look  out,  boys,  or  that  kid  will 
beat  us!  "  Of  course  he  could  not  do  that!  Not  yet. 
But  Charley  called  to  him  from  the  forward  gap, 
where  somebody  must  stand  to  keep  the  cattle  in: 
"  The  wheel  team  first,  Dave.  You  know  them,  do 
you?  A  pair  of  big  roans." 

Davy  nodded.  He  remembered  them;  he  had 
marked  them  well  by  a  good  scrutiny  when  the  herd 
was  being  driven  in  from  pasture. 

"  All  right,"  said  Charley.  "  You'll  find  them  to- 
gether. The  whole  bunch  ought  to  be  together." 

Ml 


DAVY  "THE  BULL  WHACKER" 

The  corral  was  crowded  with  oxen  and  men,  and 
appeared  a  mass  of  confusion;  but  there  was  little  con- 
fusion, for  by  this  time  the  oxen  and  the  men  all  knew 
their  business.  Davy  pushed  his  way  straight  to  the 
two  big  roans  (the  largest  and  stoutest  bulls  always 
were  chosen  for  the  wheel  team,  because  they  must 
hold  up  the  heavy  pole  and  also  must  stand  up  to  the 
weight  of  the  wagon  down  hill),  and  in  approved 
fashion  laid  the  yoke  across  the  neck  of  one. 

"  Be  sure  you  yoke  'em  like  they're  used  to  trav- 
elling lad,"  warned  a  kind  teamster,  "  The  near  and 
the  off  bull,  or  you'll  have  trouble." 

Davy  nodded  again.  He  had  noted  this  also.  The 
"  near  "  bull  meant  the  bull  that  was  yoked  to  stand 
on  the  left;  the  "  off  "  bull  was  the  right-hand  one. 
The  near  bull  of  this  team  had  a  short  horn,  he  remem- 
bered. He  slipped  the  bow  under  the  near  bull's  neck, 
and  standing  on  the  outside,  or  left,  inserted  the  ends 
of  the  bow  up  through  the  yoke  and  slipped  the  pin 
in  to  hold  it.  Then  he  hustled  around  to  the  opposite 
side  of  the  "  off  "  bull,  who  was  standing  close  to  his 
mate,  shoved  him  about  ("Get  'round  there,  you!" 
ordered  Davy,  gruffly),  and  reaching  for  the  yoke 
lifted  it  across,  adjusted  the  bow  (from  the  outside), 
slipped  in  the  pin  from  his  mouth — and  there  he  had 
his  wheel  pair  yoked  together! 

Now  proud  indeed,  he  led  his  yoke  out  through  the 
other  bulls  to  his  wagon.  They  took  position  on  either 
side  of  the  pole,  although  they  seemed  a  little  puzzled 

249 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

by  the  change  in  manager.  Now  it  only  remained  to 
lift  the  pole  and  put  the  end  through  the  ring  riveted 
to  extend  below  the  middle  of  the  yoke. 

"  Lead  team  next,"  said  Davy,  wisely,  to  himself, 
leaving  his  wheel  team  and  hurrying  to  shoulder  an- 
other yoke  and  its  bows  and  re-enter  the  wagon  corral. 

Every  man  was  supposed  to  know  his  twelve  bulls 
as  a  father  knows  his  children.  Davy's  lead  team  were 
spotted  fellows,  with  long  black  horns.  He  went 
straight  to  them  where  they  stood,  waiting;  yoked  them 
masterfully  and  led  them,  too,  out  to  the  wagon.  He 
put  them  in  position,  and  with  the  four  other  yokes 
built  his  whole  team — starting  from  the  rear.  The 
train  was  ready  and  watching,  but  not  impatient.  The 
men  gave  him  time. 

From  the  middle  of  each  yoke  the  massive  log 
chain  by  which  they  pulled  ran  between  them  back  to 
the  yoke  of  the  pair  behind — save  that  the  wheel  team 
pulled  by  the  tongue  and  had  no  chain.  Davy  worked 
hard  to  hook  the  chains.  A  man  stepped  forward  to 
help  him ;  but  Charley  called  promptly : 

"  Let  him  alone,  boys.  He's  doing  well.  He'll  get 
the  hang  of  it.  Every  man  to  his  own  team,  you 
know." 

And  Davy  was  glad. 

"  All  set/'  he  announced  shrilly,  for  his  team  were 
hooked  at  last. 

"  All  set,"  repeated  Charley.    "  Line  out,  boys." 

To  brisk  shout  from  Joel  and  crack  of  his  whip  the 

250 


DAVY  "THE  BULL  WHACKER" 

lead  team  straightened  their  chains  and  the  wagon 
moved  ahead.  One  after  another  the  other  wagons 
followed ;  and  Davy's  team  fell  into  place  almost  before 
he  had  "  popped  "  his  whip  and  had  joined  in  the  cries : 

"Haw,  Buck!    Hep!    Hep  with  you!  " 

The  train  retook  the  tfail,  Davy  trudging  like  any 
other  bull  whacker  on  the  left  side  of  his  wheel  yoke, 
his  whip  over  his  shoulder,  his  hat  shoved  back  from 
his  perspiring  forehead.  He  doubted  if  even  Billy 
Cody  could  have  done  better ;  and  he  wished  that  Billy 
might  see  him. 

Ever  the  trail  unfolded  on  and  on,  sometimes  skirt- 
ing the  shallow  Platte,  sometimes  diverging  a  little  to 
seek  easier  route.  It  traversed  a  country  very  unat- 
tractive, broken  by  the  clayey  buttes  and  by  deep 
washes,  and  running  off  into  wide,  sandy  plateaus  and 
bottoms,  rife  with  jack-rabbits,  coyotes,  prairie-dogs, 
antelope,  and  occasional  buffalo.  The  rattlesnakes 
were  a  great  nuisance;  the  men  killed  them  with  the 
whip  lashes  by  neatly  cutting  off  their  heads  as  they 
coiled  or  sometimes  shot  them.  And  almost  every 
morning  somebody  complained  of  a  snake  creeping 
into  his  warm  blanket. 

The  processions  of  emigrants  continued  as  thick 
as  ever,  bound  for  "  Pike's  Peak/'  for  Salt  Lake,  Cali- 
fornia and  Oregon.  Each  day  the  stage  for  Denver 
and  the  stage  for  Leavenworth  passed,  dusty  and  hur- 
rying; and  now  was  given  a  glimpse,  once  in  two 
weeks,  of  the  Hockaday  &  Liggett  stages,  which  trav- 

251 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

elled  twice  a  month  between  St.  Joseph,  above  Leaven- 
worth,  and  Salt  Lake  city.  Occasionally  Indians — 
Cheyennes,  Arapahoes,  Pawnees  and  Sioux — came  into 
the  camps  begging  for  "  soog "  and  "  cof "  and 
"  tobac." 

Davy  enjoyed  every  mile  and  he  did  splendidly. 
He  enjoyed  even  the  never- varying  diet  of  "  sowbelly  " 
(salt  pork),  baked  beans,  hot  bread,  and  sugarless, 
milkless  coffee,  eked  out  by  buffalo  meat  and  antelope 
meat  when  they  could  get  it.  Some  of  the  men  tried 
prairie-dogs — which  weren't  so  bad  as  they  sound, 
tasting  and  looking  like  chicken  or  rabbit.  The  main 
difficulty  was  to  get  them  after  they  had  been  shot, 
for  they  almost  always  managed  to  tumble  into  their 
holes.  Then,  when  anybody  put  a  hand  in  to  drag 
them  out,  it  was  met  by  the  angry  whirr  of  a  rattle- 
snake. A  rattle-snake  and  a  little  owl  seemed  to  live 
in  each  hole  along  with  the  prairie-dog  family ! 

There  were  storms,  coming  up  with  startling  sud- 
denness. One  storm,  at  Cottonwood  Springs  a  hun- 
dred miles  west  of  Kearney,  Davy  never  forgot.  It 
was  a  hail  storm.  First  a  mighty  cloud  of  deep  purple 
shot  through  with  violet  lightning,  swelled  over  the 
trail  in  the  west.  Emigrants  scuttled  to  secure  their 
wagons,  and  at  Charley's  sharp  commands  so  did  the 
bull  train. 

"  It  looks  like  a  twister,  boys,"  shouted  Charley, 
riding  back  along  the  train.  "  Better  corral.  I'm 
afraid  for  these  bulls." 

252 


DAVY  "THE  BULL  WHACKER" 

So  the  train  corralled  in  a  jiffy;  and,  unyoked,  the 
bulls  were  driven  inside.  The  tongues  were  hung  in 
the  draw  ropes  of  the  wagon  covers  and  the  wheels 
were  chained,  wagon  to  wagon.  Slickers  were  jerked 
out  from  the  wagons  and  donned;  and  the  men  pre- 
pared to  crawl  under  the  wagon  boxes  if  necessary. 

With  angry  mutter  and  swollen  shape  the  purple 
cloud  came  on  at  a  tremendous  pace.  The  spin-drift 
of  it  caught  the  plain  far  ahead,  and  one  after  another 
the  trains  of  the  emigrants  were  swallowed  in  the 
blackness.  When  the  first  gust  struck  the  bull  train 
the  touch  was  icy  cold. 

"  Hail,  boys !  Hail !  "  shouted  Charley.  "  Watch 
the  bulls!" 

Now  sounded  a  clatter  like  rain  on  a  sheet-iron 
roof;  and  across  the  landscape  of  sand  and  clay,  and  a 
cotton  wood  grove  at  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  swept  a 
line  of  white.  The  men  dived  for  cover  like  prairie- 
dogs  whisking  into  their  holes. 

Yes,  it  was  hail!  Such  hail!  Driven  by  a  gale 
the  stones,  some  as  large  as  hickorynuts,  and  all  as 
large  as  filberts,  lashed  the  huddled  train;  whanged 
against  canvas  and  wagon-box  and  with  dull  thuds 
bounded  from  the  bulls*  backs.  Some  of  the  animals 
shifted  uneasily,  for  the  stones  stung.  The  others 
stood  groaning  and  grunting  with  discomfort,  shaking 
their  heads  when  a  particularly  vicious  missile  landed 
on  an  ear  Under  the  wagons  the  men  were  secure; 

263 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

but  Dave  felt  sorry  for  the  poor  bulls  who  turned  and 
sought  in  vain. 

As  quickly  as  it  had  come  the  storm  passed,  leaving 
the  ground  white  with  the  hail.  Almost  before  the 
men  had  crawled  out  from  underneath  their  wagons 
the  sun  was  shining. 

The  hail  had  not  damaged  the  bull  train  to  any  ex- 
tent. There  were  dents  in  the  tough  wood  where  the 
heavy  stones  had  struck,  and  several  of  the  wagon 
sheets,  forming  the  hoods,  had  been  punctured  in  weak 
spots;  but  thanks  to  Charley's  promptness  in  corral- 
ling, the  animals  had  not  stampeded.  However,  some 
of  the  emigrants  had  not  fared  so  well,  because  they 
had  not  known  what  to  do.  After  the  bull  train  was 
yoked  up  again  and  was  travelling  on,  it  passed  two 
emigrant  outfits  stalled  by  the  trail,  trying  to  recover 
their  teams  which  had  run  away.  Many  of  the  flimsy 
cotton  hoods  used  by  the  emigrants  were  riddled  into 
strips. 

The  Overland  Trail  followed  up  the  south  side  of 
the  Platte,  the  same  way  by  which  Dave  had  come 
down  with  the  Lew  Simpson  train  a  year  before,  after 
the  fight  in  the  mule  fort.  Where  the  North  Platte  and 
the  South  Platte  joined  current  it  continued  on  up  the 
South  Platte — and  now  to  the  north  a  short  distance 
was  the  place  where  the  mule  fort  had  been  located  so 
hastily  by  Billy  Cody  and  Lew  and  George  Woods. 

Soon  the  main  trail  for  Salt  Lake  and  California 
forded  the  South  Platte  to  cross  the  narrow  point  of 

254 


DAVY  "THE  BULL  WHACKER" 

fend  for  Ash  Hollow  at  the  North  Platte  and  for 
Laramie  and  Salt  Lake  City.  But  the  Denver  branch 
proceeded  on  into  the  west  by  the  newer  trail  to  the 
mountains  and  Denver. 

This  branch  of  the  Overland  Trail  down  to  Denver 
was  only  six  months  old,  but  already  it  was  a  well- 
worn  trail,  scored  deep  by  the  stages  and  by  the  thou- 
sands of  emigrants  and  the  constant  freight  outfits. 
The  travel  eastward,  toward  the  States,  was  almost  as 
great  now  as  that  westbound,  for  fall  had  come  and 
everybody  who  was  intending  to  return  to  the  States 
had  started  so  as  to  get  there  before  winter.  A  winter 
journey  by  wagon  across  these  plains  was  no  fun. 

After  the  parting  of  the  trail,  the  next  station  on 
the  route  was  Jules'  Ranch.  Jules  was  an  old  French- 
Indian  trapper  and  trader,  whose  full  name  (as  he 
claimed)  was  Jules  Beni.  His  mother  was  a  Cheyenne 
Indian,  and  Jules  had  built  a  trading  post  here,  a 
mile  beyond  Lodgepole  Creek,  for  trade  with  the 
Cheyennes.  Now  Jules  had  turned  his  attention  to 
the  new  business  that  had  opened,  and  he  was  selling 
flour  to  the  Pike's  Peak  "pilgrims"  at  a  dollar  a 
pound.  He  had  been  smart  enough  to  break  a  new 
trail  that  would  bring  the  travel  between  the  North 
and  the  South  Platte  past  his  place — for  the  regular 
crossing  was  east  of  him.  He  was  smart,  was  Old 
Jules,  and  now  he  had  just  been  made  stage  agent. 

"  I  want  all  you  fellows  to  keep  clear  of  Old  Jules/' 
cautioned  Charley,  as  the  train  approached  what  some 

255 


BUFFALO  I  rLL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

of  the  men  jokingly  called  "  Julesburg."  "  I've  never 
seen  him  when  he  wasn't  drunk  and  he's  a  corker  for 
losing  his  temper  and  picking  fights.  Then  he  wants  to 
kill  somebody.  When  he's  in  liquor  he's  plumb  crazy. 
He's  shot  two  men  and  carries  their  ears  in  his  pocket. 
I'm  not  afraid  of  him,  and  neither  are  you;  but  to- 
morrow's Sunday  and  we'll  tie  up  near  his  place,  and 
I  don't  want  trouble." 

"Why  don't  you  pull  right  through,  Charley?" 
asked  Andy  Johnson,  as  a  spokesman.  "  We're  agree- 
able. '  Dirty  Jules  '  is  no  great  attraction." 

"  Well,"  said  Charley,  "  we  usually  do  ease  off  on 
Sunday,  and  it's  company  orders  and  I  don't  propose 
to  change  the  programme  at  this  stage  of  the  game." 


XVIII 

BILLY  CODY  TURNS  UP  AGAIN 


THE  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  bull  trains  were 
under  instructions  to  lie  by  over  Sunday  whenever 
possible.  By  some  people  this  was  accounted  a  waste 
of  time.  However,  Mr.  Majors  especially  insisted  that 
Sunday  should  be  Sunday  wherever  it  fell,  in  town  or 
on  the  danger  trail.  One  day  in  seven  might  well  be 
spent  in  rest  even  with  a  bull  train.  It  brought  the 
men  and  cattle  through  in  better  shape,  and  was  a  gain 
that  way  instead  of  any  loss. 

So  that  evening  the  wagon  train  corralled  near 
the  Platte  River  crossing,  where  the  Salt  Lake  Trail 
turned  north,  about  half  a  mile  east  from  Jules' 
Ranch.  The  river  was  a  great  convenience,  for  on 
Sunday  the  men  usually  tried  to  slick  up  by  bathing 
and  washing  their  clothing  and  tidying  generally. 
Therefore,  after  breakfast  the  brush  near  the  river 
bank  was  soon  displaying  shirts  and  handkerchiefs  of 
red  and  blue,  and  sundry  pairs  of  socks,  spread  out  to 
dry,  while  their  owners  sat  around  and  fought  mos- 
quitoes an'4  watched  the  wagon  outfits.  Some  of 
these  forded  the  river  for  Salt  Lake,  Oregon  or  Cali- 
fornia, but  most  of  them  kept  on  up  the  Denver 


«57 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

This  was  interrupted  by  a  distant  hullabaloo — a 
yelling  and  cheering  mingled.  The  air  was  thin  and 
still  and  very  clear,  so  that  sound  and  eyesight  carried 
far  through  it.  The  hullabaloo  evidently  came  from 
Jutes'  Ranch,  where  at  the  group  of  buildings  a  crowd 
of  people  had  gathered.  Davy's  shirt  was  dry,  and  he 
reached  for  it. 

"  Must  be  having  a  celebration  over  yonder," 
drawled  Kentuck.  "  Reckon  I'll  go  see." 

He  donned  his  red  shirt  and  started.  Several 
others  made  ready  to  go ;  and  Davy,  as  curious  as  any- 
body, decided  that  he  would  go,  too.  So,  wriggling 
into  his  clothes,  whether  they  were  dry  or  not,  he  fol- 
lowed along  up  the  trail  to  Jules'  place. 

The  ranch  was  a  small  collection  of  adobe  or  sun- 
baked clay  buildings,  and  a  log  shack  which  was  the 
store.  The  main  excitement  was  centred  in  front  of 
*he  store.  The  crowd  had  formed  a  circle  at  a  respect- 
ful distance.  They  were  emigrants  and  a  few  of  the 
Charley  Martin  bull  train. 

"  What's  the  row?  "  queried  Kentuck  of  a  man  at 
his  elbow. 

"  'Pears  like  this  fellow  Jules  is  having  a  leetle  time 
with  himself,"  answered  the  man.  "  I  'low  he's  crazy. 
He's  got  whiskey  and  flour  out  thar  on  the  ground  and 
says  he's  mixing  mortar.  It's  a  good  pl~ce  for  the 
whiskey,  but  it's  an  awful  waste  of  flour." 

Edging  through  the  circle,  Davy  peered  to  see.  A 
dirty,  darkly  sallow  visaged,  hairy  man,  in  soiled  shirt, 

258 


BILLY  CODY  TURNS  UP  AGAIN 

and  trousers  sagging  from  their  belt,  was  capering  and 
screeching,  and  hoeing  at  a  white  mass  which  might 
have  been  real  mortar.  But  the  smell  of  whiskey  was 
strong  in  the  air,  and  there  stood  a  barrel  of  it  with 
the  head  knocked  in.  The  white  stuff  was  flour,  for, 
as  Davy  looked,  the  capering  hairy  man  grabbed  a  sack, 
tore  it  open  and  emptied  it  on  the  pile. 

"  I  show  you  how  I  mek  one  gr-r-rand  mortarr,"  he 
proclaimed.  "  Flour  at  one  dollar  ze  pound,  whiskey 
at  ten  dollars  ze  quart;  zat  ze  way  ol'  Jules  mek 
gr-r-rand  mortarr.  Wow!  Hooray!  If  anybody 
teenk  he  mek  one  better  mortarr,  I  cut  off  hees 
ears.  Dees  my  country;  I  do  as  I  please."  And  he 
hoed  vigorously  at  his  "  mortar  bed/'  and  screeched 
and  capered  and  threatened  and  boasted  and  made  a 
fool  of  himself. 

Some  of  the  crowd  laughed  and  applauded;  but 
the  majority  were  disgusted.  To  Davy  it  seemed  a 
great  pity  that  any  human  being  should  so  lose  all  con- 
trol of  himself  and  be  less  human  than  an  ape.  He 
speedily  tired  of  this  silly  exhibition  by  Jules,  the 
store-keeper,  and  turned  away  for  fresh  air.  He  and 
Charley,  the  wagon  boss,  emerged  from  the  crowd 
together. 

"  Old  Jules  is  spoiling  his  own  business,  I  reckon," 
observed  Charley.  "  How  any  man  can  watch  that  in 
there  and  ever  taste  whiskey  again  is  more  than  I 
know.  To  see  him  make  a  fool  of  himself  is  better  than 
signing  a  pledge/' 

259 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

The  crowd  rapidly  wearied  of  this  drunken  Jules 
and  his  antics  and  dwindled  away.  As  for  Davy,  he 
had  decided  to  take  a  walk  to  the  mouth  of  Lodgepole 
Creek,  up  the  river  a  short  distance.  Lodgepole  Creek 
emptied  in  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Platte,  and  was 
named  because  the  Cheyennes  used  to  gather  their 
lodge  poles  along  it. 

The  Platte  flowed  shallow  and  wide,  with  many 
sand  bars  and  ripples,  and  many  deepish  holes  where 
the  water  eddied  rapidly.  The  banks  were  fringed 
with  willows  not  very  high.  From  a  rise  in  the  trail 
Dave,  trudging  stanchly  in  his  heavy  dusty  boots, 
beheld  an  object,  far  up  the  channel,  beyond  the  willow 
tops,  floating  down. 

It  was  a  large  object  flat  to  the  water,  and  as  he 
peered  he  saw  a  flash  as  from  an  oar-blade.  A  boat ! 
No — too  large  and  low  for  a  boat.  It  must  be  a  raft 
with  somebody  aboard.  Davy  waited,  inquisitive ;  for 
craft  floating  on  the  Platte  were  a  curiosity.  The 
upper  river  was  too  shallow,  especially  at  this  time  of 
the  year. 

The  raft  came  on  gallantly  and  swiftly.  It  carried 
three  persons  and  their  outfit.  The  crew  were  standing 
up :  one  of  them  steering,  behind,  and  one  at  either 
edge,  with  oars,  was  helping  to  fend  off  from  the  bars. 
It  looked  like  an  easy  mode  of  travel,  and  Davy  pre- 
pared to  stand  out  and  give  the  voyagers  a  cheer. 

But  just  before  the  raft  arrived  opposite,  going 
finely  it  appeared  to  hang  on  a  snag  or  else  strike  a 

£60 


"WHY — HELLO,  BILLY!    is  THAT  YOU?" 


BILLY  CODY  TURNS  UP  AGAIN 

sudden  eddy;  or  perhaps  it  did  both  at  once;  nobody 
could  tell.  Under  Davy's  astonished  eyes  it  stopped 
for  a  moment  in  mid-stream ;  the  crew  wildly  dug  with 
their  oars  and  fell  to  their  hands  and  knees ;  whirling 
around  and  around  the  platform  fairly  melted  away 
underneath  them,  leaving  only  three  black  dots  on  the 
surface  of  the  water.  These  were  heads! 

Waking  to  the  situation,  Davy  waved  and  shouted ; 
the  swimmers  may  have  seen  him,  he  thought,  because 
they  were  making  for  his  side.  The  current  bore  them 
along,  as  sometimes  they  swam  and  sometimes  they 
waded;  and  he  kept  pace  to  encourage.  As  the  fore- 
most neared  the  bank,  Davy  rushed  down  and  waded 
in  to  meet  him  and  help  him  ashore.  He  wasn't  a  very 
large  person — that  drenched  figure  floundering  and 
splashing  for  safety;  he  wasn't  large  at  all;  and  ex- 
tending a  hand,  to  give  him  a  boost,  Davy  gasped,  only 
half  believing: 

-Why— hello,  Billy!     Gee  whiz!     Is  that  you?" 

"  Hello,  Dave,"  answered  Billy  Cody,  muddy  and 
dripping,  but  calmly  shaking  Dave's  hand.  "  I  guess  it 
must  be.  Where  are  Hi  and  Jim  ?  "  And  he  turned 
quickly  to  scan  the  river.  "  Good.  They're  coming. 
I  knew  they  could  swim.  They  can  swim  better  than 
I,  so  I  reckoned  I'd  get  ashore  as  soon  as  I  could. 
Wrhat  are  you  doing  here  and  where  are  you  bound 
for?" 

"  I'm  bull  whacking  for  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell 

261 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

from  Leavenworth  to  Denver,"  informed  Davy, 
proudly.  "  Where  are  you  bound  for?  " 

"  Back  to  the  river."  And  by  "  the  river  "  Davy 
knew  that  Billy  meant  the  Missouri.  "  We  didn't  have 
any  luck  in  the  diggin's,  so  we  thought  we'd  float  home 
down  the  Platte  to  the  Missouri  and  down  the  Missouri 
to  Leavenworth.  Well,  we  got  this  far,  anyhow." 

"  Jiminy  crickets !  "  shouted  Hi,  now  plashing  in. 
"If  here  isn't  Dave  waiting  for  us !  Did  you  come  all 
the  way  from  Leavenworth  to  meet  us,  Dave  ?  " 

And  there  was  a  great  shaking  of  hands. 

"  I  dunno  what  the  dickens  happened  to  us  out 
there,"  volunteered  Jim,  gazing  at  the  river  suspi- 
ciously. "  One  moment  we  were  just  sailing  along  and 
next  moment  we  were  swimming.  No  more  sailoring 
for  me ;  I'd  rather  walk  with  a  bull  team.  Here  we'v<* 
lost  our  whole  outfit  and  we're  going  home  from  the 
diggin's  '  busted  '  flat." 

"  We  didn't  have  much  to  lose ;  that's  one  com- 
fort," said  Billy.  "  Think  how  bad  we'd  be  feeling  if 
we'd  struck  it  rich  up  in  the  mountains  and  every  ounce 
was  now  at  the  bottom  of  the  Platte!  Huh!  We've 
had  our  fun,  anyhow.  Who's  your  wagon  boss, 
Dave?" 

"  Charley  Martin." 

"  Where  are  you  camped  ?  " 

"  At  the  Platte  crossing,  just  below  Jules'." 

"  All  right,"  quoth  Billy,  cheerily.  "  Come  on,  boys. 


BILLY  CODY  TURNS  UP  AGAIN 

I'm  going  down  to  the  camp  and  see  what  I  can  get, 
and  Charley  '11  grub-stake  us  home." 

They  had  clambered  up  the  bank  into  the  dryness, 
and  now  they  continued  down  the  trail — Billy  and  Hi 
and  Jim  clumping  and  squashing,  Davy  tramping  stur- 
dily in  his  teamster  costume  of  flannel  shirt  and  trousers 
tucked  into  big  boots. 

"  So  you're  a  sure-'nough  bull  whacker,  are  you?  " 
asked  Hi  of  Davy,  with  a  grin. 

"  I  was  hired  just  as  an  l  extra '  for  carrying  mes- 
sages, you  know,"  said  Davy,  to  be  both  honest  and 
modest.  "  But  we  ran  short  of  men  so  Charley  put  me 
at  whacking.  I  can  sling  a  whip  some;  that  is,  pretty 
good.  The  bulls  are  trained,  anyway." 

"  When  did  you  begin?  "  asked  Billy. 

"  Back  at  Plum  Creek." 

"If  you've  held  your  job  this  far,  then,  I  guess  you 
can  hold  it  as  long  as  you  like.  Bully  for  you,  Red." 
And  at  Billy's  generous  praise  Davy  blushed. 

The  excitement  at  Jules'  trading  store  had  quieted 
and  only  the  mess  of  whiskey-sodden  flour  remained. 
Billy  and  Jim  paid  scant  attention  to  this,  except  that 
they,  too,  were  disgusted  when  they  heard  what  old 
Jules  had  been  up  to.  They  were  more  intent  upon 
getting  to  the  wagon  train  camp.  And  here  Charley 
Martin  and  the  whole  outfit,  in  fact,  received  them  with 
a  great  ado.  Everybody  in  the  train  seemed  to  know 
Billy,  and  almost  everybody  knew  Hi  and  Jim. 

263 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

There  was  a  stranger  to  Davy  in  camp.  He  had 
arrived  in  a  light  buggy  drawn  by  a  strong,  spirited 
team  of  black  horses,  and  was  chatting  with  Charley. 
His  name  proved  to  be  B.  F.  Ficklin — "  Ben  "  Ficklin. 
He  shook  hands  with  Billy,  and  Billy  introduced  Dave. 

"  Mr.  Ficklin,  this  is  my  friend  Dave  Scott, 
youngest  bull  whacker  on  the  plains. 

"  You  want  to  watch  out  or  he'll  catch  up  with  you, 
Billy,"  bantered  Mr.  Ficklin. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  answered  Billy,  carelessly. 
"  But  I've  got  a  head  start  over  him.  I'm  a  prairie 
sailor  sure  now,  and  navigation  on  the  Platte  is 
closed!" 

Not  only  in  sailing  on  the  Platte,  but  in  many  other 
feats  Dave  never  did  catch  up  with  Billy  Cody. 

Mr.  Ficklin  was  the  general  superintendent  of  the 
Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  freighting  and  staging  busi- 
ness. He  bore  the  news  that  the  company  had  taken 
over  the  stage  outfit  of  Hockaday  &  Liggett,  which 
ran  twice  a  month  from  St.  Joseph  on  the  Missouri  to 
Salt  Lake  on  the  Platte  River  Overland  Route,  and 
were  going  to  combine  the  Leavenworth  &  Pike's  Peak 
Express  with  it.  He  himself  was  on  his  way  from 
Denver,  back  down  the  trail  to  inspect  the  condition 
of  the  stations  from  the  Platte  crossing  to  the  Mis- 
souri. 

"  We're  going  to  make  this  stage  line  a  hummer, 
boys,"  he  informed.  "  Hockaday  &  Liggett  have  been 

264 


BILLY  CODY  TURNS  UP  AGAIN 

running  two  times  a  month  on  a  schedule  of  twenty-one 
days  to  Salt  Lake;  no  stations,  and  same  team  with- 
out change  for  several  hundreds  of  miles  at  a  stretch. 
The  company  are  putting  in  stations  every  ten  and 
fifteen  miles  all  along  the  Overland  route  from  the 
river  to  Salt  Lake,  and  stocking  them  with  provisions 
and  fodder.  We're  buying  the  best  Kentucky  mules  that 
we  can  find  and  ordering  more  Concord  coaches;  and 
we're  going  to  put  a  coach  through  every  day  in  the 
year,  from  the  Missouri  to  Salt  Lake,  on  a  ten-day 
schedule,  by  the  Salt  Lake  Overland  Trail  to  the  cross- 
ing here,  then  north  to  Laramie  and  over  the  South 
Pass.  A  stage  will  be  sent  down  to  Denver,  too. 

Mr.  Ficklin  evidently  was  an  enthusiast.  Davy  had 
heard  of  him — a  hard  worker  and  a  booster  for  the 
company  that  he  loved. 

"  What's  ever  become  of  the  scheme  of  yours  and 
that  California  senator,  Gwin,  to  put  a  fast  mail  service 
through,  horseback,  from  St.  Louis  to  San  Francisco, 
by  the  Overland  route,  at  $500  for  each  round  trip," 
asked  Joel  of  Mr.  Ficklin. 

"  Nothing  yet.  Senator  Gwin  was  right  for  it  after 
our  talk  on  the  stage  from  California  five  years  ago. 
and  he  introduced  a  bill  in  Congress ;  but  the  bill  died. 
The  California  people  are  howling,  though,  for  some- 
thing better  than  news  three  weeks  to  six  weeks  old 
from  the  East.  And  mark  my  words,"  continued  Mr. 
Ficklin,  earnestly,  "that's  what  will  happen  next — a 

265 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

pony  express  from  the  Missouri  to  the  coast  that  will 
beat  the  stage." 

"  Do  you  think  they'll  stretch  a  line  of  relays  clear 
across  for  two  thousand  miles  and  keep  it  going  day 
and  night  passing  the  mail  along?''  demanded  Billy, 
his  eyes  sparkling  at  the  fancy. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Ficklin,  shortly. 

"  Well,  when  they  do  I  want  to  ride  one  of  the 
runs — one  that  will  keep  me  hopping,  too,"  declared 
Billy, 


XIX 

DAVY  MAKES  ANOTHER  CHANGE 


"  DID  you  see  my  mother  when  you  were  back  East, 
Dave?  "asked  Billy. 

"  Yes." 

"How's  she  looking?" 

"  Not  extra  good,  Billy.  She's  not  very  well,  and 
she  said  if  I  came  across  you  to  tell  you  she'd  like  to 
see  you  as  soon  as  she  could." 

"How  are  the  girls?" 

"  They're  all  right." 

"  I'm  sorry  about  ma,"  mused  Billy,  soberly.  "  If 
she's  poorly  I'm  going  home  as  straight  as  I  can 
travel,  you  can  bet  on  that." 

"  We  can  give  you  a  job  with  the  bull  train,  Billy," 
proffered  Charley  Martin.  "  We're  short  of  men." 

But  Billy  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  sir.  I'm  due  at  the  Cody  place  in  Salt  Creek 
Valley." 

"  Well,  Billy,  in  that  case  I'll  pass  you  through  on 
the  next  stage,  if  there's  room,"  volunteered  Mr. 
Ficklin. 

"  I  can  hang  on  somewhere,"  asserted  Billy.  "  The 
pass  is  the  main  thing.  Never  mind  the  room." 

207 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

While  they  all  were  talking  a  new  arrival  halted 
near.  It  was  an  army  ambulance — a  wagon  with  black 
leather  top,  seats  running  around  the  inside,  and  four 
big  black  army  mules  as  the  team.  It  was  bound  west. 
A  soldier  in  dusty  blue  uniform  was  the  driver,  and  a 
corporal  of  infantry  sat  beside  him,  between  his  knees 
a  Sharp's  carbine.  From  the  rear  of  the  ambulance 
another  soldier  briskly  piled  out.  By  his  shoulder 
straps  and  the  white  stripes  down  his  trouser-seams  he 
was  an  officer;  by  the  double  bars  on  his  shoulder 
straps  a  captain.  He  wore  a  revolver  in  holster. 

He  walked  over  to  the  group  and  nodded. 

"  Hello,  Ben." 

"  How  are  you,  captain/'  And  Mr.  Ficklin  arose 
to  shake  hands. 

"  Gentlemen,"  continued  Mr.  Ficklin,  "  I  want  to 
introduce  Captain  Brown." 

"  I  believe  I  know  the  captain,"  spoke  Charley,  also 
shaking  hands. 

"  Hello,  Billy,"  addressed  the  captain,  catching 
sight  of  him.  "What's  the  matter?  Been  swim- 
ming? " 

"  Yes,"  laughed  Billy.  "  The  water's  a  little  cold 
up  in  the  mountains,  so  I  took  my  annual  down  here." 

"  Billy's  been  at  the  diggin's,  captain,"  vouchsafed 
Mr.  Ficklin.  "  He  brought  down  so  much  gold  in  his 
hide  that  he  couldn't  travel  till  he'd  washed  it  out." 

Billy  took  their  joking  good-naturedly.     That  he 

268 


DAVY  MAKES  ANOTHER  CHANGE 

was  going  home  "  broke  "  had  not  discouraged  him  at 
all. 

"  I  know  one  thing,  gentlemen,"  he  declared.  "  I'm 
not  a  miner,  but  I  had  to  learn.  The  plains  for  me  after 
this.  You'll  find  me  bobbing  up  again." 

"  Yes,  you  can't  keep  Billy  Cody  down,  that's  a 
fact,"  agreed  Mr.  Ficklin.  "  Where  are  you  bound, 
captain?  Denver?" 

"  No,  sir.  Laramie.  I've  just  come  through  from 
Omaha.  I  hear  you  fellows  are  putting  on  a  daily 
stage  to  Salt  Lake  to  connect  there  with  the  line  for 
San  Francisco." 

"  Yes,  sir.  It'll  be  running  this  month,  and  it'll 
be  a  hummer.  I'm  on  my  way  to  inspect  the  stations 
now." 

"  This  is  my  friend  Dave  Scott,  captain,"  intro- 
duced Billy,  in  his  generous  way.  "  He's  the  youngest 
bull  whacker  on  the  trail." 

"  He  must  be  a  pretty  close  second  to  you,  then, 
Billy,"  remarked  Captain  Brown,  extending  his  hand 
to  Davy,  who,  as  usual,  felt  embarrassed.  "  You 
started  in  rather  young  yourself !  "  The  captain  (who 
was  a  tanned,  stoutly-built  man,  with  short  russet  beard 
and  keen  hazel  eyes)  scanned  Davy  sharply.  He 
scratched  his  head.  "  I  don't  see  why  I  can't  get  hold 
of  a  boy  like  you  or  Billy,"  he  said.  "  I  prefer  red- 
headed boys.  I  was  red-headed  myself  once,  before 
the  Indians  scared  my  hair  off." 

"  You're  a  bit  red-headed  now,  captain,"  slyly  as- 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

serted  Charley;  for  the  captain's  bald  pate  certainly 
was  well  burned  by  the  sun. 

"  Well,  I  feel  red-headed,  too,"  retorted  the  cap- 
tain. "  So  would  you  if  every  time  you  got  a  clerk  he 
deserted  to  the  gold  fields.  Lend  me  this  boy,  will  you, 
Martin?  He's  in  your  train,  isn't  he?  I'll  take  him  on 
up  to  Laramie  with  me  and  give  him  a  good  job  in  the 
quartermaster's  department.  There's  a  place  there 
for  somebody  just  about  his  size,  boots  and  all."  And 
the  captain,  who  evidently  had  taken  a  fancy  to  the 
sturdy  Dave,  smiled  at  him. 

All  of  a  sudden  Davy  wanted  to  go.  He  had  heard 
of  Fort  Laramie,  that  important  headquarters  post  on 
the  North  Platte  in  western  Nebraska  (which  is  to-day 
Wyoming)  near  the  mountains,  and  he  wanted  to  see 
it.  Billy  had  been  there  several  times  with  the  bull 
trains  out  of  Leavenworth,  and  had  told  him  about  it. 

"  I'd  like  to  oblige  you,  captain,"  answered  Charley. 
"  But  we're  short  handed  this  trip,  and  Davy's  a  val- 
uable man.  He's  making  quite  a  bull  whacker.  Be- 
sides, I  reckon  he's  counting  on  going  to  school  this 
winter  in  Leavenworth;  aren't  you,  Davy?" 

Davy  nodded. 

"I  thought  I'd  better,"  he  said.  "That's  one 
reason  I  left  Denver." 

"  He  can  go  to  school  at  Laramie/'  asserted  the 
captain  quickly.  "  We  have  a  school  for  the  post  chil- 
dren there,  and  it's  a  good  one." 

Davy  listened  eagerly,  and  it  was  plain  to  be  seen 
270 


DAVY  MAKES  ANOTHER  CHANGE 

how  he  was  inclined.  Denver  meant  only  a  short  stay, 
for  Charley  was  anxious  to  start  back  again  before 
winter  closed  in  on  the  plains,  and  there  might  not  be 
any  chance  to  see  Mr.  Baxter,  after  all.  Laramie 
sounded  good. 

"  Oh,  shucks !  "  blurted  Jim.  "  If  you  want  to  let 
Dave  out,  Charley,  I'd  as  lief  go  on  to  Denver  and 
finish  with  you." 

"  So  would  I,"  added  Hi. 

"  How  about  it,  Dave?  "  queried  Charley.  "  Is  it 
Denver  or  Leavenworth,  or  Laramie,  for  you  ?  " 

"  I'd  like  to  try  Laramie  first-rate  but  I  don't  want 
to  quit  the  train  unless  you  say  so,"  answered  Dave, 
honestly.  "  I  hired  out  for  the  trip,  and  Mr.  Russell 
and  Mr.  Majors  expect  me  to  go  through." 

"  Mr.  Majors  knows  me  and  so  does  Billy  Rus- 
sell/' put  in  the  captain.  "  I'll  write  Majors  a  letter 
and  give  him  a  receipt  for  one  red-headed  boy,  with 
guarantee  of  good  treatment.  I  tell  you,  Martin,  the 
United  States  has  need  for  one  red-headed  boy,  name 
of  Dave,  in  the  quartermaster  service  at  Fort  Laramie; 
and  I  believe  I'll  have  to  send  a  detail  out  on  the  trail 
and  seize  him  by  force  of  arms."  The  captain,  of 
course,  was  joking,  but  he  also  seemed  in  earnest.  "If 
he's  employed  by  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  that's 
recommendation  enough,  and  I  want  him  all  the  more." 

Charley  laughed. 

"  Oh,  in  that  case,  and  if  he  wants  to  go,  I  suppose 
I'll  have  to  let  him,  and  take  Jim  and  Hi  on  in  his 

271 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

place.  They  two  ought  to  be  able  to  fill  his  job.  If 
you  say  so,  Dave,  I'll  give  you  your  discharge  right 
away,  and  a  voucher  for  your  pay  to  date,  and  you 
can  see  how  you  like  the  army  for  a  change." 

"  Go  ahead,  Red,"  bade  Billy.  "  You'll  learn  a  heap, 
and  I'll  be  out  that  way  myself  soon.  First  thing  you 
know  you'll  see  me  coming  through  driving  stage  or 
riding  that  pony  express.  Whoop-la !  " 

And  of  this  Davy  did  not  have  the  slightest  doubt. 

Captain  Brown  declined  an  invitation  to  stay  for 
dinner  with  the  mess.  He  was  in  a  hurry.  So  the 
exchange  of  Davy  from  bull  whacking  to  Government 
service  was  quickly  made.  Before  he  was  an  hour 
older  he  had  shaken  hands  with  everybody  within 
reach  and  was  trundling  northward  in  the  black  cov- 
ered ambulance  beside  Captain  Brown.  He  knew  that 
in  another  hour  or  two  Billy  himself  would  be  travel- 
ling east,  back  to  Salt  Creek  Valley  and  Leavenworth ; 
and  that  early  in  the  morning  the  bull  train,  with 
Charley  and  Joel  and  Kentuck  and  Hi  and  Jim  and 
all,  would  be  travelling  west  for  the  end  of  the  trail 
at  Denver. 

This  was  just  like  the  busy  West  in  those  days; 
friends  were  constantly  mingling  and  parting,  each  on 
active  business — to  meet  again  a  little  later  and  report 
what  they  had  been  doing  in  the  progress  of  the  big 
country. 

"  You're  too  young  to  follow  bull  whacking,  my 
boy/'  declared  the  captain.  "  It's  a  rough  life  and  a 

272 


DAVY  MAKES  ANOTHER  CHANGE 

hard  one.  To  earn  your  own  way  and  know  how  to 
hold  up  your  end  and  take  care  of  yourself  is  all  very 
well;  but  you'd  better  mix  in  with  it  the  education  of 
books  and  cultured  people  as  much  as  you  can  while 
you  go  along.  Then  you'll  grow  up  an  all-round  man 
instead  of  a  one-sided  man.  Laramie's  a  long  way 
from  the  States ;  but  we've  got  a  small  post  school  and 
a  few  books,  and  it's  the  home  of  a  lot  of  cultured  men 
and  women.  You'll  learn  things  there  that  you'll  never 
learn  roughing  it  on  the  trail. " 

And  Davy  looked  forward  to  life  at  old  Fort  Lara- 
mie,  the  famous  army  post  and  freight  and  emigrant 
station  on  the  Overland  Trail  to  Salt  Lake,  Oregon  and 
California. 

The  fording  of  the  Platte  was  made  in  quick  time 
to  foil  the  quicksands.  The  North  Platte  was  now 
scarce  eighteen  miles  across  the  narrow  tongue  of  land 
separating  the  two  rivers  above  their  juncture.  It  was 
struck  at  Ash  Hollow.  Ash  Hollow  had  a  grocery  store 
for  emigrant  trade.  The  sign  read  "  BUTTE, 
REGGS,  FLOWER  and  MELE." 

Captain  Brown  halted  here  long  enough  to  buy  a 
few  crackers  and  some  sardines. 

"  Thought  we'd  stock  up  while  we  can,"  he  ex- 
plained to  Dave.  "  These  and  what  buffalo  meat  we 
have  will  carry  us  quite  a  way.  Laramie's  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty  miles,  and  I'm  going  to  push  right 
through." 

The  four  stout  mules  ambled  briskly  at  a  good  eight 

18  273 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

miles  an  hour,  following  the  trail  into  the  west,  up  the 
south  bank  of  the  river.  The  trail  was  broad  and 
plain,  but  it  was  not  so  crowded  with  emigrants  as  it 
had  been  before  the  Pike's  Peak  portion  of  it  had 
branched  off.  However,  there  still  were  emigrants; 
and  there  were  many  bull  trains  bound  out  for  Laramie 
and  Fort  Bridger  and  Salt  Lake,  for  this  was  the  main 
Overland  Trail,  dating  back  fifty  years. 

The  ambulance  rolled  on  without  slackening,  ex- 
cept for  sand  or  short  rises,  until  after  sunset.  Then 
the  captain  gave  the  word  to  stop.  By  this  time  he 
knew  Dave's  history,  and  Davy  was  liking  him  im- 
mensely. They  clambered  stiffly  out.  The  driver  and 
corporal  unhitched  the  mules;  and  while  the  corporal 
made  a  fire  for  coffee,  the  driver  (who  was  a  private) 
put  the  mules  out  to  graze. 

"  We'll  take  four  hours,  Mike/'  said  the  captain 
to  the  corporal.  "  Then  we'll  make  another  spurt  until 
daylight." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  corporal,  saluting. 

"  You'd  do  well  to  crawl  in  the  wagon  and  sleep, 
after  supper,  Dave,"  advised  the  captain  to  Davy. 
"  We'll  be  travelling  the  rest  of  the  night.  Can  you 
stand  it?" 

Davy  laughed.  A  great  question,  that,  to  ask  of  a 
boy  who'd  just  been  a  bull  whacker  walking  across  the 
plains ! 

Nevertheless,  Davy  took  a  nap  in  the  bottom  of  the 
ambulance ;  and  more  than  a  nap.  When  he  awakened, 

274 


DAVY  MAKES  ANOTHER  CHANGE 

he  had  been  aroused  by  the  jolting  of  his  bed.  A  buf- 
falo robe  had  been  thrown  over  him,  the  captain  was 
sitting  in  a  corner  snugly  wrapped,  and  by  the  light 
of  a  half  moon  the  ambulance  was  again  upon  its  way. 

In  the  morning,  when  they  once  more  halted  to  rest 
and  feed  the  mules,  the  country  was  considerably 
rougher,  with  hills  and  fantastic  rocks  breaking  the 
sagy,  gravelly  landscape.  The  white-topped  wagons 
of  emigrants  and  the  smoke  of  their  camp-fires  were 
in  sight,  before  and  behind;  and  not  far  ahead  a  bull 
outfit  were  driving  their  bulls  into  the  wagon  corral 
to  yoke  up  for  the  day's  trail. 

Breakfast  was  coffee  and  buffalo  meat;  but  Cor- 
poral Mike  mounted  one  of  the  mules  and  rode  off  the 
trail.  When  he  returned  he  had  some  sage  chickens 
and  an  antelope.  The  sides  of  the  ambulance  had  been 
rolled  up;  and  about  noon,  pointing  ahead  the  captain 
remarked  to  Davy: 

"  That's  Laramie  Peak,  beyond  the  post.  We've 
got  only  about  eighty  miles  to  go  and  we'll  be  in  bright 
and  early." 

The  landmark  of  Laramie  Peak,  of  the  Black  Hills 
Range  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  remained  in  sight  all 
rlay,  slowly  standing  higher.  The  sun  set  behind  it. 
Davy  snoozed  in  the  bottom  of  the  ambulance.  The 
captain  had  spoken  truth,  for  shortly  after  sunrise 
they  sighted  the  flag  streaming  over  Fort  Laramie. 

Old  Fort  Laramie  was  not  so  large  a  post  as  Fort 

275 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Leavenworth;  it  was  not  so  large  as  Fort  Kearney, 
even.  Davy  was  a  little  disappointed,  for  "  Laramie  " 
was  a  name  in  the  mouth  of  almost  every  bull  whacker 
in  the  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  trains  out  of  Leav- 
enworth, and  the  men  were  constantly  going  "  out  to 
Laramie  "  and  back.  The  post  stood  on  a  bare  plateau 
beside  Laramie  Creek  about  a  mile  up  from  the  Platte ; 
some  of  the  buildings  were  white-washed  adobe,  some 
were  logs,  and  some  were  of  rough-sawed  lumber. 
Back  of  the  fort  were  hills,  and  beyond  the  hills,  to  the 
southwest,  were  mountains — Laramie  Peak  being  the 
sentinel. 

It  was  the  important  division  point  on  the  Over- 
land Trail  to  Salt  Lake;  maintained  here  in  the  Sioux 
Indian  country  to  protect  the  trail  and  to  be  a  dis- 
tributing point  for  Government  supplies.  It  was  gar- 
risoned by  both  cavalry  and  infantry;  on  the  outskirts 
were  cabins  of  Indian  traders  and  trappers  and  other 
hangers-on,  and  there  were  a  couple  of  stores  that 
sold  things  to  emigrants.  Sioux  Indians  usually  were 
camping  nearby,  in  time  of  peace. 

Davy  changed  his  rough  teamster  costume  for 
clothes  a  little  more  suited  to  a  clerk  and  messenger  in 
the  quartermaster's  department,  and  was  put  to  work 
by  Captain  Brown,  the  acting  quartermaster.  The 
post  proved  a  busy  place,  with  the  quartermaster's 
offices  the  busiest  of  all;  but  the  captain  and  Mrs. 
Brown  saw  that  Dave  was  courteously  treated  and 

276 


DAVY  MAKES  ANOTHER  CHANGE 

given  a  fair  show.  He  went  to  evening  school,  and 
had  books  to  read;  and  once  in  a  while  was  allowed 
time  for  a  hunt.  In  fact,  Fort  Laramie,  away  out  here, 
alone,  guarding  the  middle  of  the  Overland  Trail 
through  to  Salt  Lake,  was  by  no  means  a  stupid  or 
quiet  place. 

Of  course,  the  trail  was  what  kept  it  lively,  for 
every  day  news  from  the  States  and  from  the  farther 
west  arrived  with  the  emigrants  and  the  bull  trains; 
and  scarcely  had  Dave  been  settled  into  his  new  niche, 
when  arrived  the  first  of  the  new  daily  stages  from 
the  Missouri.  It  was  preceded  by  a  slender,  gentle- 
manly man  named  Bob  Scott,  dropped  off  by  one  of 
the  company  wagons  which  was  establishing  the 
stations.  Bob  Scott  was  to  drive  stage  from  Fort  Lara- 
mie on  to  Horseshoe,  thirty-six  miles,  and  he  was  here 
in  readiness.  He  seemed  to  be  well  known  on  the  trail, 
for  many  persons  at  the  post  called  him  "Bob." 

"  When  do  you  expect  to  start  on  the  run,  Bob  ?  " 
asked  the  captain. 

"  I  think  about  next  Tuesday,  captain,"  answered 
Bob,  in  his  quiet,  easy  tone.  "  The  first  coach  leaves 
to-day,  I  understand,  from  St.  Joe." 

"  They'll  make  it  through  in  six  days,  will  they?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  Ten  days  to  Salt  Lake  is  the  schedule 
— an  average  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  a  day. 
At  Salt  Lake  the  express  and  passengers  are  trans- 
ferred to  the  George  Chorpening  line  to  Placerville, 

277 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

California,  and  from  Placerville  they're  sent  on  to 
Sacramento  and  San  Francisco.  I  understand  the 
time  from  the  Missouri  River  to  San  Francisco  will 
be  about  eighteen  days." 

"  You  haven't  heard  what's  to  be  the  name  of  the 
new  company,  have  you,  Bob?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  '  Central  Overland,  California  & 
Pike's  Peak  Express  '  is  to  be  the  name;  the  '  C.  O.  C. 
&  P.  P.' " 

Stables  and  express  station  and  a  relay  of  horses 
had  been  established  adjacent  to  the  post.  The  old 
stage  company,  Hockaday  &  Liggett,  had  worked  on  a 
loose,  go-as-you-please  system  which  was  very  dif- 
ferent from  the  way  that  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell 
went  at  it.  Now,  with  things  in  readiness  along  the 
line,  clear  to  Salt  Lake  City,  Tuesday  dawned  on  a 
post  eagerly  hoping  that  Bob  Scott's  calculation  would 
prove  true. 

About  eleven  o'clock  a  murmur  and  hustle  in  the 
post  announced  that  the  stage  was  in  sight.  It  came 
with  a  rush  and  a  cheer — its  four  mules  at  a  gallop, 
up  the  trail,  the  big  coach  swaying  behind  them,  the 
driver  firm  on  his  box.  Stain  of  dust  and  mud  and 
rain  and  snow  coated  the  fresh  coach  body,  for  all  the 
way  from  the  Missouri  River,  600  miles,  had  it  come, 
through  all  kinds  of  weather,  and  had  been  travel- 
ling night  and  day  for  six  days.  At  top  and  bottom  of 
the  frame  around  the  stiffened  canvas  ran  the  legend : 

278 


DAVY  MAKES  ANOTHER  CHANGE 

"Central  Overland  California  &  Pike's  Peak  Ex- 
press Co." 

"  Wild  Bill "  Hickok  himself  it  was  who,  coolly 
tossing  his  lines  to  the  hostler,  waiting  to  take  them 
and  lead  the  horses  to  the  stable,  drawing  off  his  gloves 
bade,  for  the  benefit  of  his  passengers : 

"  Gentlemen,  you  have  forty  minutes  here  for 
dinner." 

At  the  same  moment  the  station  keeper's  wife  began 
to  beat  a  sheet-iron  gong  as  dinner  signal. 


XX 

FAST  TIME  TO  CALIFORNIA 


DAVE  was  heartily  glad  to  see  Wild  Bill  again — 
and  Wild  Bill  seemed  glad  to  see  Davy. 

"  I  heard  you  were  out  in  this  region,"  said  Wild 
Bill,  after  they  had  shaken  hands.  "  Billy  Cody  told 
me." 

"  When  did  you  see  him,  Bill?  " 

"  Last  time  was  when  I  was  out  to  his  house  about 
a  month  ago.  He  was  planning  on  a  trapping  and 
hunting  trip  with  a  man  named  Harrington  up  in  the 
Republican  country  north  of  Junction  City.  But  he'll 
be  on  the  trail  again  in  the  spring?  you  mark  my 
word." 

"  So  you're  driving  stage,  are  you,  Bill  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I'm  running  between  Horse  Creek  and 
Laramie,  forty-two  miles.  It's  a  great  outfit,  the  C. 
O.  C.  &  P.  P. — the  finest  coaches  and  mules  I've  ever 
seen,  and  plenty  of  stations  and  feed.  Now  it's  up  to 
the  drivers  to  make  the  schedule."  And  Wild  Bill 
sauntered  off,  nodding  to  acquaintances,  to  wash  and 
eat. 

Davy  joined  the  group  admiring  the  coach.     It 

280 


FAST  TIME  TO  CALIFORNIA 

evidently  had  been  prepared  especially  for  the  occasion 
of  the  first  trip  through.  It  was  a  new  "  Concord," 
built  by  the  famous  stage-coach  manufacturers,  the 
Abbot-Downing  Company,  of  Concord,  New  Hamp- 
shire. The  large  round,  deep  body  was  enclosed  at  the 
sides  by  canvas  curtains  that  could  be  rolled  up;  and 
behind,  it  was  extended  to  form  a  large  roomy  tri- 
angular pocket,  or  "  boot,"  for  mail  and  baggage. 
The  driver's  seat,  in  front,  was  almost  on  the  level 
with  the  roof;  and  beneath  it  was  another  pocket,  or 
ooot,  for  express  and  other  valuables.  A  pair  of  big 
oil  lamps  sat  upon  brackets,  at  either  end  of  the 
driver's  seat.  The  coach  body  was  slung  upon  heavy 
straps  forming  the  "  throughbrace,"  instead  of  resting 
upon  springs;  and  here  it  securely  cradled.  It  had 
been  painted  red  and  decorated  with  gilt. 

This  coach  had  space  for  six  passengers,  three  in 
a  seat  facing  three  others  in  an  opposite  seat.  The 
coach  was  filled,  when  it  had  arrived,  with  the  six 
passengers  and  a  lot  of  mail;  Wild  Bill  on  the  box, 
and  beside  him  a  wiry  little  man,  who  was  Captain 
Cricket,  the  express  messenger. 

Bob  Scott  and  Wild  Bill  ate  dinner  together  at  the 
station.  The  fresh  team  of  mules  had  been  harnessed 
into  the  traces,  and  were  being  held  by  the  heads. 
Bob  looked  at  his  watch,  drew  on  his  gloves,  circuited 
the  mules  with  an  eye  to  their  straps  and  buckles,  laid 
his  overccat  (a  fine  buffalo  coat  with  high  beaver 

281 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

collar)  on  his  seat,  and  grasping  lines  and  whip  climbed 
up.  Captain  Cricket  nimbly  followed. 

"  All  ready,  gentlemen,"  announced  Bob,  his  foot 
on  the  brake,  poised  to  release  it.  The  passengers  came 
hurrying  out  and  into  the  coach.  Bob  gave  one  glance 
over  his  shoulder.  Then — "  Let  'er  go,"  he  bade  the 
hostlers. 

"  Whang!  "  his  brake  released;  the  hostlers  leaped 
aside ;  out  flew  his  lash,  forward  sprang  the  mules,  and 
away  went  coach  and  all,  in  a  flurry  of  dust,  for  the 
next  run,  to  Horseshoe  Creek,  thirty-six  miles.  Run 
by  run,  up  the  Sweetwater  River,  over  South  Pass, 
down  to  the  Sandy  and  the  Green  Rivers,  through 
Fort  Bridger  and  Echo  Canyon,  one  hundred  and  more 
miles  every  day,  would  it  speed,  by  relays  of  teams  and 
of  drivers,  until  the  last  team  and  last  driver  would 
bring  it  into  Salt  Lake. 

Wild  Bill  took  a  horse  and  returned  to  his  east 
station,  to  drive  in  the  next  westbound  stage.  Every 
day  a  stage  came  through,  and  presently  the  stages 
from  the  west  began  coming  back.  The  driver  who 
brought  in  a  stage  from  one  direction  took  back  the 
stage  going  in  the  opposite  direction. 

The  stages  through  to  Salt  Lake  and  to  the  Mis- 
souri brought  considerable  new  life  to  Fort  Laramie. 
Papers  and  letters  from  New  York  and  San  Francisco 
arrived  so  quickly  after  being  mailed  that  it  was  easy 
to  see  what  a  great  treat  this  service  was  to  Salt  Lake 


FAST  TIME  TO  CALIFORNIA 

and  Denver  and  every  little  settlement  along  the  whole 
route. 

Mr.  Ficklin  was  general  superintendent  of  the  line, 
and  was  constantly  riding  up  and  down.  No  person 
who  passed  by  was  better  liked  than  Superintendent 
Ficklin.  Mr.  Russell  was  in  Washington,  but  Mr. 
Majors  appeared,  once,  stepping  from  the  stage;  and 
he  had  not  forgotten  Davy. 

"  Your  pardner,  Billy  Cody,  almost  met  his  end 
this  winter,  my  lad,"  he  informed.  "  Did  you  hear 
about  it?" 

"  No,  sir,"  gasped  Dave. 

"  Well,  he  did.  He  was  up  in  central  Kansas  on  a 
trapping  trip,  and  lost  his  oxen  and  broke  his  leg  and 
had  to  be  left  alone  in  a  dug-out  while  his  companion 
went  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  miles,  afoot,  to  the 
nearest  settlement  for  a  team  and  supplies.  Billy  got 
snowed  in,  couldn't  move  anyway,  a  gang  of  Indians 
plundered  him  and  might  have  murdered  him,  and 
when,  on  the  twenty-ninth  day — nine  days  late — his 
friend  finally  arrived  and  yelled  to  him,  Billy  could 
scarcely  answer.  Even  then  the  snow  had  to  be  dug 
away  from  the  door.  But  he  reached  home  safely  and 
he's  getting  along  finely  now.  He's  plucky,  is  Billy — 
and  so  was  his  friend,  Harrington." 

"  Maybe  he  won't  want  to  go  out  on  the  plains  any 
more/'  faltered  Dave. 

"Who?  Billy  Cody?"  And  Mr.  Majors  laughed. 
"  You  wait  till  the  grass  begins  to  get  green  and  the 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

willow  buds  swell,  and  you'll  see  Billy  Cody  right  on 
deck,  ready  for  business/' 

Back  and  forth,  between  Salt  Lake  and  the  Mis- 
souri River  shuttled  the  stages  of  the  Central  Over- 
land, California  &  Pike's  Peak  Express.  They  seemed 
to  be  making  money  for  the  company,  but  rumors 
said  that  the  company  needed  more  money;  in  fact, 
the  company  were  in  a  bad  way.  The  expenses  had 
been  tremendous.  The  big  coaches  cost  $1000  apiece 
— and  there  were  fifty  of  them.  The  harness  for  each 
four-mule  team  was  made  in  Concord,  and  it  cost 
about  $150.  Then  there  were  10,000  tons  of  hay  a 
year,  at  twenty  to  thirty  dollars  a  ton;  and  3,000,000 
pounds  of  corn  and  another  3,000,000  pounds  of  grain, 
at  several  cents  a  pound;  and  2000  mules  at  seventy- 
five  dollars  each;  and  the  wages  of  the  men — $100  a 
month  and  board  for  the  division  agents,  $50  and  $75 
a  month  for  the  drivers,  $50  a  month  for  the  station 
agents,  and  $40  a  month  for  the  hostlers  who  took  care 
of  the  mules. 

But  even  under  this  expense  it  seemed  as  though  the 
passenger  fare  of  $125  to  Denver  and  $200  to  Salt 
Lake  (meals  extra  at  a  dollar  and  a  dollar  and  a  half ) . 
and  the  heavy  rates  on  express  ought  to  bring  the 
company  a  profit.  Davy,  trying  to  figure  out  the 
matter,  hoped  so.  Of  course,  it  was  not  his  business, 
but  a  fellow  likes  to  have  his  friends  successful;  and 
Dave  looked  upon  Mr.  Majors,  and  Mr.  Russell,  and 
Mr.  Waddell  as  very  good  friends  of  his. 

284 


FAST  TIME  TO  CALIFORNIA 

He  took  a  trip,  once  in  a  while,  on  the  stage  east 
with  Wild  Bill,  or  west  with  "  Gentleman  Bob,"  on 
quartermaster's  affairs,  to  some  of  the  stations.  There 
always  was  room  on  the  driver's  box,  and  generally 
Wild  Bill  or  "  Gentleman  Bob  "  was  glad  to  have  him 
up  there  along  with  the  messenger. 

"  Gentleman  Bob  "  proved  to  be  as  remarkable  a 
character  as  Wild  Bill  Hickok.  When  approaching 
stations  Wild  Bill  signalled  with  a  tremendous  pierc- 
ing :  "  Ah- whoop-pee !  "  and  arrived  on  the  run. 
Gentleman  Bob  whistled  shrilly.  The  teams  for 
either  of  them  had  to  be  changed  in  less  than  four 
minutes,  or  there  was  trouble.  The  Overland  stage 
waited  for  naught. 

Wild  Bill  passed  the  news  on  to  Gentleman  Bob, 
and  Gentleman  Bob  it  was  who  passed  it  to  Davy,  as 
one  fresh,  windy  morning  in  this  the  spring  of  1860, 
Dave  gladly  clambered  up  to  the  driver's  box  to  ride 
through  to  the  end  of  the  run  at  Horseshoe. 

"  Let  'er  go!  "  yelped  Bob,  kicking  the  brake  free; 
and  to  mighty  lunge  and  smart  crack  of  lash  the  coach 
jumped  forward,  whirling  away  from  the  station  for 
another  westward  spurt. 

"This,  oh  this  is  the  life  for  me, 
Driving  the  C.  O.  C.  &  P.  P." 

warbled  Gentleman  Bob,  flicking  the  off  lead  mule 
with  the  whip  cracker.     No  bull  whacker  in  any  Rus- 

285 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

sell,  Majors  &  Waddell  outfit  could  sling  a  whip 
more  deftly  than  "  Gentleman  Bob,"  a  "  king  of  the 
road."  "  Do  you  know  what  that  means,  nowadays, 
Red— <C.  O.  C  &  P.  P.'?" 

"What,  Bob?" 

"  Clean  Out  of  Cash  &  Poor  Pay !  " 

"  Aw !  "  scoffed  Davy.    "  Is  it  as  bad  as  that?  " 

"  Pretty  near,"  asserted  Bob.  But  that  wasn't  his 
news.  His  news  followed.  "  Do  you  know  something 
else;  what's  going  to  happen  next  on  this  blooming 
road?" 

"  Pony  express !  "  hazarded  Dave. 

Bob  turned  his  head  and  coolly  stared. 

"How'd  you  find  out?" 

"  I  guessed.  Mr.  Ficklin  spoke  about  it  a  long 
time  ago." 

"  Well,  she's  due,  and  Ben  Ficklin  and  Billy  Rus- 
sell and  Alex  Majors  and  that  crowd  are  back  of  it. 
You  saw  Billy  Russell  go  through  Laramie  last  month. 
He's  been  buying  hosses — the  best  in  the  country,  two 
hundred  of  'em,  at  from  one  hundred  to  two  hundred 
dollars  apiece.  Read  this  advertisement  in  the  paper; 
that'll  tell  you  the  scheme."  And  reaching  in  behind 
the  leather  apron  which  covered  the  front  of  the 
pocket  or  "  boot "  under  his  seat,  Bob  extracted  a 
newspaper.  He  indicated  with  his  thumb.  "  Read 
that,"  he  bade. 

286 


FAST  TIME  TO  CALIFORNIA 

It  was  a  "  Missouri  Republican,"  date  of  March 
26.  The  article  said : 

TO    SAN   FRANCISCO   IN    EIGHT   DAYS 

BY 

THE  CENTRAL  OVERLAND  CALIFORNIA 
AND 

PIKE'S  PEAK  EXPRESS  co. 

The  first  courier  of  the  Pony  Ex- 
press will  leave  the  Missouri  River 
on  Tuesday,  April  3,  at  5  o'clock  p.  m,v 
and  will  run  regularly  weekly  there- 
after, carrying  a  letter  mail  only. 
The  point  of  departure  on  the  Mis- 
souri River  will  be  in  telegraphic 
connection  with  the  East  and  will  be 
announced  later. 
****** 

The  letter  mail  will  be  delivered 
in  San  Francisco  in  ten  days  from  the 
departure  of  the  Express.  The  Ex- 
press passes  through  Forts  Kearney, 
Laramie,  Bridger,  Great  Salt  Lake 
City,  Camp  Floyd,  Carson  City,  The 
Washoe  Silver  Mines,  Placerville, 

and    Sacramento. 

****** 

W.  H.  RUSSELL,   President. 
LEAVEN  WORTH    CITY,   KANSAS, 
March,   1860. 

There  was  more  than  this  to  the  advertisement, 
but  these  were  the  paragraphs  that  appealed  to  Davy. 

"  Pretty  slick  they've  all  been  about  it,  too,"  re- 
sumed Bob,  tucking  the  paper  away  again. 

287 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

'*  You're  right,"  spoke  the  express  messenger — 
who  was  Captain  Cricket,  again  on  his  way  through  to 
Salt  Lake.  "  They've  bought  the  ponies  and  hired 
the  riders,  sixty  of  them.  The  route's  being  divided 
into  runs  of  seventy-five  or  a  hundred  miles,  and 
stocked  with  horses,  every  ten  or  fifteen  miles,  for 
change  of  mounts." 

"  Do  you  think  it'll  pay?  "  asked  Gentleman  Bob. 

"  Pay?  No!  It  can't  pay.  But  it'll  be  a  big  ad- 
vertisement for  this  company.  They  count  on  show- 
ing the  Government  that  the  Salt  Lake  Trail  can  be 
travelled  quicker  and  easier  than  the  old  Butterfield 
overland  trail  through  Texas,  and  on  taking  the  mail 
and  express  business  away  from  it." 

"  I'd  like  to  ride  one  of  those  runs,"  asserted  Dave, 
boldly. 

Gentleman  Bob  laughed  and  cracked  his  silk  lashed 
whip,  of  which  he  was  very  proud. 

"  I  expect  you  would,  Red,"  he  agreed.  "  But  this 
riding  a  hundred  miles  or  more  at  a  gallop  without  rest 
is  no  kid's  job,  you'd  find." 

"  Billy  Cody'll  ride,  though,  I  bet  a  dollar,"  re- 
turned Davy. 

Gentleman  Bob  scratched  his  cheek  with  his  whip 
stock,  and  deliberated. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  would." 

Events  moved  rapidly  now  after  the  Pony  Express 
had  been  announced.  Three  new  horses  were  stabled 
at  the  stage  station;  two  were  wiry  ponies,  the  other 

288, 


FAST  TIME  TO  CALIFORNIA 

was  a  mettlesome  horse  of  such  extra  good  points  that 
Gentleman  Bob  pronounced  him  a  Kentucky  thorough- 
bred. The  station  force  of  men  were  increased  by 
Pony  Express  employees,  and  a  rider  himself  arrived 
who  had  been  engaged  to  take  the  run  from  Laramie 
west  to  the  next  "  home  "  station,  Red  Buttes,  ninety- 
eight  miles.  His  name  was  "  Irish  Tom,"  and  he  did 
not  weigh  more  than  one  hundred  pounds;  but  every 
pound  of  him  seemed  to  be  good  hard  muscle. 

Irish  Tom  had  come  in  from  the  west.  He  said 
that  he  had  been  one  of  sixty  riders  hired  at  Carson 
City,  Nevada,  by  Bolivar  Roberts,  who  was  the  su- 
perintendent of  the  Western  Division  of  the  Pony 
Express.  According  to  Irish  Tom  every  man  had  to 
prove  up  that  he  was  experienced  on  the  plains  and  in 
the  mountains,  and  could  ride.  Altogether,  there  were 
eighty  riders  waiting,  stationed  all  the  way  across  the 
continent  from  St.  Joseph  on  the  Missouri  to  Sacra- 
mento in  California ;  there  were  over  400  picked  horses, 
which  would  gallop  at  top  speed  up  hill  and  down, 
through  sand  and  mud,  snow  and  water  and  sun,  for  at 
least  ten  miles  at  a  stretch. 

The  start  from  both  ends  of  the  route,  from  St. 
Joseph  and  from  Sacramento,  was  to  be  made  (as 
advertised)  on  April  3.  Of  course  there  was  no  way 
of  knowing  at  Laramie,  for  instance,  whether  the 
start  had  been  made;  the  Pony  Express  would  bring 
its  own  news,  for  the  railroad  and  the  telegraph  were 
the  only  things  that  could  beat  it,  and  these  seemed 
19  289 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

a  long  way  in  the  future.  As  for  the  Overland  Stage, 
the  Pony  Express  was  scheduled  to  travel  two  miles 
to  the  stage's  one ! 

April  3rd  passed;  so  did  April  4th  and  5th.  It  was 
figured  at  the  post  and  stage  station  that  on  a  schedule 
of  ten  miles  an  hour,  including  stops,  the  600  miles  to 
Laramie  would  bring  the  first  rider  through  early  on 
April  6th.  The  west-bound  rider  would  reach  Laramia 
before  the  east-bound  rider,  because  the  distance  from 
the  Missouri  River  was  the  shorter  distance. 

Davy  was  among  those  who  turned  out  at  daybreak 
to  watch  for  the  first  rider.  He  hustled  down  to  the 
stage  station.  The  air  was  frosty,  ice  had  formed 
over  night,  and  the  sunrise  was  only  a  pink  glow  in  the 
east,  beyond  the  expanse  of  rolling,  sage-brush  plain. 
A  group  of  stage  and  pony  express  employees  and  of 
people  from  the  post  had  gathered,  wrapped  in  their 
buffalo-robe  coats  and  army  coats,  shivering  in  the 
chill  air,  but  waiting.  By  evidence  of  this  group  the 
rider  had  not  come;  but  the  fresh  horse  was  standing 
saddled  and  bridled  (he  was  the  Kentucky  thorough- 
bred), and  Irish  Tom  was  also  standing,  ready,  beside 
it.  Irish  Tom  wore  a  close-fitting  leather  jacket  and 
tight  buckskin  trousers,  and  boots  and  spurs  and  a 
slouch  hat  tied  down  over  his  ears  with  a  scarf.  At 
his  belt  were  two  revolvers  and  a  knife;  and  slung 
to  his  back  was  a  Spencer  carbine,  which  could  fire 
eight  shots. 

All  eyes  were  directed  down  the  trail. 
200 


FAST  TIME  TO  CALIFORNIA 

"  He's  due,"  spoke  the  station  agent.    And — 

"  There  he  comes !  "  shouted  somebody.  "  There 
he  comes ! " 

"  There  he  comes !    Hurray !    There  he  comes !  " 

Upon  the  dun  sandy  trail  had  appeared  a  black 
speck.  How  rapidly  it  neared!  Every  eye  was  glued 
to  it;  Irish  Tom  put  foot  into  stirrup,  hand  upon 
mane ;  his  horse,  as  if  knowing,  pawed  eagerly. 

Now  the  speck  had  enlarged  into  a  horseman, 
rising,  falling,  rising,  falling,  upon  galloping  steed. 
The  horse  itself  was  plain — and  through  the  still  thin 
air  floated  the  heralding  beat  of  rapid  hoofs. 

The  rider  was  leaning  forward,  lifting  his  mount 
to  its  every  stride ;  the  horse's  head  was  stretched  for- 
ward, he  was  running  low  and  hard,  and  now  the  steam 
from  his  nostrils  could  be  seen  in  great  puffs.  On 
they  swept,  they  two,  man  and  horse,  every  second 
nearer — and  suddenly  here  they  were,  the  horse's 
chest  foam-specked,  his  nostrils  wide  and  red,  his  legs 
working  forward  and  back,  forward  and  back,  his 
rider  a  little  fellow  not  much  larger  than  Dave,  crim- 
son faced  from  the  swift  pace  through  the  cold  night. 
He  swung  his  hat,  and  whooped,  exultant.  Up  rose  a 
cheer  to  greet  him;  and  the  crowd  scattered,  for  into 
its  very  midst  he  galloped  at  full  speed. 

He  jerked  from  underneath  him  a  set  of  saddle- 
bags, and  ere  he  had  stopped  he  flung  them  ahead; 
the  station  agent  sprang  to  grab  them,  and  before  the 
rider  had  landed  upon  the  ground  had  slung  them 

291 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

across  Irish  Tom's  saddle  and  shouted :     "  Clear  the 
way!" 

Into  his  saddle  leaped  Irish  Tom,  tightened  lines, 
thrust  spurs  against  hide,  and  at  a  single  great  bound 
was  away,  bending  low  and  racing  like  mad  at  full 
gallop  on  up  the  trail  for  Red  Buttes,  almost  100  miles 
westward  again.  In  an  astonishingly  brief  space  of 
time  he  was  around  the  turn  and  out  of  sight;  but  the 
rapid  thud  of  his  hoofs  still  echoed  back. 


XXI 

"PONY  EXPRESS  BILL" 


THE  name  of  the  rider  who  had  just  arrived  was 
Charley  Cliff.  As  he  stiffly  swung  from  the  saddle,  a 
dozen  hands  were  thrust  at  him  to  clap  him  on  the 
shoulder  and  to  shake  his  hand  in  congratulation. 

"  What  did  you  make  it  in?  " 

"What  time  is  it?"  he  panted. 

:<  You  arrived  at  five  ten/' 

"  Is  that  so  ?  Then  I  made  the  last  twenty  miles  in 
sixty-two  minutes." 

The  horse  looked  like  it.  It  staggered,  weak-kneed, 
as  the  hostler  carefully  led  it  to  the  stable.  Charley  also 
slightly  staggered  from  stiffness  as  he  walked  away 
with  the  agent  through  a  lane  of  admirers,  for  break- 
fast and  sleep. 

Before  the  east-bound  mail  arrived  on  its  swift 
journey  from  California  to  the  Missouri  River,  Davy 
and  everybody  else  at  Laramie  knew  just  how  the 
system  was  being  worked.  Charley  had  been  well 
questioned. 

Only  the  best  horses  were  used — horses  that  could 
beat  Indian  horses  or  anything  else  on  the  road.  The 
Pony  Express  riders  were  supposed  not  to  fight  but 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

to  run  away.  Their  Spencer  carbine  and  two  re- 
volvers and  knife  were  carried  for  use  only  in  case 
that  they  couldn't  run  away.  They  all  had  to  sign  the 
regular  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  pledge,  and  each 
one  was  given  a  calf-bound  Bible,  just  as  with  the  bull 
trains.  Small  horses  were  preferred,  and  a  very  light 
skeleton  saddle  was  used.  A  set  of  saddle-bags  called 
a  mochila  (mo-cheela)  was  hung  across  the  saddle ;  each 
corner  was  a  pocket  for  the  mail.  The  pocket  flaps 
were  locked  by  little  brass  keys,  and  could  be  un- 
locked only  by  the  station  agents.  The  mochila  was 
passed  from  rider  to  rider,  and  the  mail  was  taken  out 
or  put  in  along  the  route.  Of  course,  the  most  of  the 
mail  was  through  mail,  from  the  East  to  the  Coast, 
and  from  the  Coast  to  the  East.  The  rate  was  five 
dollars  a  half  ounce,  and  most  of  the  letters  were  writ- 
ten on  tissue  paper ;  the  New  York  and  St.  Louis  papers 
also  were  to  be  printed  on  tissue  paper  for  mailing  by 
the  Pony  Express.  The  limit  was  twenty  pounds. 
Charley  thought  that  he  had  brought  about  three 
pounds.  The  letters  were  wrapped  in  oiled  silk,  so 
that  they  would  not  soak  with  water,  and  were  in  Gov- 
ernment Pony  Express  envelopes,  which  cost  ten  cents 
apiece.  Later  Dave  saw  some  of  these  letters,  directed 
to  Laramie.  Several  addressed  to  the  post  sutler,  for 
instance,  from  merchant  houses,  had  as  much  as 
twenty  dollars  in  postage  stamps  and  Pony  Express 
stamps  on  the  envelopes ! 

Gradually  the  names  of  the  Pony  Express  riders 

294 


"PONY  EXPRESS  BILL" 

passed  back  and  forth  along  the  line.  There  were 
eighty  of  the  riders,  forty  carrying  the  news  in  one 
direction,  forty  carrying  it  in  the  other.  Out  on  the 
west  end — the  Pacific  Division — were  riding  Harry 
Roff  and  "Boston/'  and  Sam  Hamilton  (through 
thirty  feet  of  snow  on  the  Sierra  Nevada  mountain 
range!)  and  Bob  Haslam,  and  Jay  Kelley,  Josh  Per- 
kins, Major  Egan.  In  and  out  of  Laramie  rode  Irish 
Tom,  and  Charley  Cliff,  who  was  only  seventeen  years 
old.  In  and  out  of  Julesburg  rode  Bill  Hogan,  and 
"  Little  Yank,"  who  weighed  a  hundred  pounds  and 
rode  100  miles  without  a  rest.  Further  east,  down  the 
Platte,  were  Theo  Rand  and  "  Doc  "  Brink,  and  Jim 
Beatley,  and  handsome  Jim  Moore,  and  little  Johnny 
Frye — who  took  the  first  trip  out  of  St.  Joe. 

Their  names  and  the  names  of  other  riders  trav- 
elled from  mouth  to  mouth — and  soon  tales  were  be- 
ing told  of  storms  and  Indians  and  outlaws  and  acci- 
dents that  tried  to  stop  the  express  but  couldn't.  No 
matter  what  conspired  to  stop  him,  the  Pony  Express 
rider  always  got  through.  The  first  relays  had  carried 
the  mail  from  the  Missouri  River  to  Sacramento,  Cali- 
fornia, 1966  miles,  in  nine  days  and  twenty-three  hours 
— one  hour  under  schedule!  And  after  that  the  mail 
went  through,  both  ways,  on  schedule  time  or  less. 

So,  regularly  as  clockwork,  into  Laramie  galloped 
the  rider  from  Mud  Springs,  with  the  west-bound  mail, 
and  the  rider  from  Red  Buttes  with  the  east-bound 
mail;  in  fifteen  seconds  the  saddle  bags  were  changed 

295 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

from  horse  to  horse  and  out  galloped  the  fresh  riders. 
Davy  burned  to  vault  aboard  the  saddle,  like  Irish  Tom 
or  Charley,  and  scurry  away,  on  business  bent,  to  carry 
the  precious  saddle  bags  to  the  next  rider. 

But  meanwhile,  where  was  Billy  Cody? 

The  question  was  soon  answered  by  Billy  himself 
when,  one  afternoon,  into  Fort  Laramie  pulled  a  Rus- 
sell, Majors  &  Waddell  bull  outfit  with  Government 
freight  from  Leavenworth ;  also  with  Billy  Cody  riding 
beside  Wagon  Boss  Lew  Simpson!  Never  was  sight 
more  welcome  to  Dave,  who  from  the  quartermaster's 
office  espied  the  familiar  figure  and  immediately  rushed 
out  to  give  greeting. 

Billy  looked  a  little  thin  after  the  strenuous  time 
that  he  had  had  on  the  trapping  expedition  when  he  was 
disabled  and  snowed  in  helpless;  but  he  could  shake 
hands  and  exchange  a  "  He'lo,"  before  he  swung  from 
his  mule  and  made  for  Jack  Slade. 

Mr.  Slade  was  division  superintendent  of  the  stage 
and  Pony  Express,  with  headquarters  at  Horseshoe 
Station,  thirty-six  miles  west  from  Laramie.  Just  now 
he  was  coming  across  the  grounds  and  Billy  stopped 
him. 

"  How  are  you,  Mr.  Slade?  " 

"How  are  you?" 

"  My  name's  Billy  Cody,  Mr.  Slade.  I  want  to 
ride  pony  express.  Mr  Russell's  sent  me  out  to  your 
division  with  a  letter."  And  Billy  extended  the  letter. 

Mr.  Slade  was  a  straight,  muscular,  rather  slender 

296 


"PONY  EXPRESS  BILL" 

man,  with  smooth-shaven  face,  high  cheek-bones,  cool, 
steady  gray  eyes  and  thin  straight  lips.  He  had  the 
reputation  of  being  a  dangerous  man  in  a  fight,  and 
already  he  had  driven  Old  Jules,  down  at  Julesburg, 
into  hiding.  He  was  rapidly  cleaning  his  division  of 
outlaws  and  thieves. 

Without  opening  the  letter  he  scanned  Billy  from 
head  to  foot.  Billy  stood  stanch. 

"You  do,  do  you?"  presently  said  Mr.  Slade. 
"  You're  too  young  for  a  pony  express  rider,  my  boy. 
It  takes  men  for  that  business." 

Evidently  he  did  not  know  Billy  Cody. 

"  I  rode  a  while  on  Bill  Trotter's  division,  sir," 
responded  Billy,  eagerly.  "  I  filled  the  bill  there,  and 
I  think  I  can  do  as  well  or  better  now." 

Mr.  Slade  seemed  interested. 

"  Oh !  Are  you  that  boy  who  was  riding  down  there 
a  short  time  back,  as  the  youngest  rider  on  the  road?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.    I'm  the  boy." 

Mr.  Slade  proceeded  to  read  the  Russell  letter.  It 
must  have  recommended  Billy  highly,  for  Mr.  Slade 
appeared  to  be  satisfied. 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "I've  heard  of  you.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  it  would  shake  the  life  out  of  you, 
but  maybe  you  can  stand  it.  I'll  give  you  a  trial,  any- 
how ;  and  if  you  can't  stand  up  to  it  you  can  tend  stock 
at  Horseshoe.  I'll  let  you  know  your  run  in  the  morn- 


ing." 


287 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

He  walked  away,  and  Billy  turned  to  Dave  with 
face  aglow. 

"  I've  got  it !  "  he  asserted.  "  Hurrah !  It's  on  the 
toughest  division  west  of  the  mountains,  too!  I  tell 
you  that's  no  joke,  riding  pony  express — making  eighty 
or  a  hundred  miles  at  a  dead  gallop  night  and  day,  and 
changing  horses  every  ten  miles  or  so  in  less  than  two 
minutes." 

What  luck !  Or,  no,  not  luck ;  Billy  had  earned  it. 
That  evening  Dave  and  he  had  a  great  old-time  visit 
exchanging  news.  Dave  did  not  have  much,  it  seemed 
to  him,  worth  while  to  report,  but  Billy  was  full  of 
adventures,  as  usual.  Davy  heard  again  all  about  the 
trapping  trip  of  last  winter,  and  how  another  Dave—- 
Dave Harrington — had  fought  a  heroic  fight  with  the 
snow  to  find  Billy  in  the  dug-out,  and  rescue  him. 
Billy  was  all  right  now ;  and  after  having  had  a  short, 
rather  easy,  pony  express  run  down  the  line,  was  here 
anxious  to  tackle  something  harder. 

Mr.  Slade  went  on  to  Horseshoe  early  the  next 
morning,  but  he  saw  Billy  before  he  left,  and  Billy 
got  the  assignment.  He  hailed  Dave  in  high  feather. 

"  I'm  off,"  he  announced.  "  But  I'm  on,  too.  I've 
got  the  run  between  Red  Buttes  and  Three  Crossings ! 
Seventy-six  miles — about  the  hardest  run  on  the 
toughest  division  of  the  trail !  Reckon  maybe  he  thinks 
he  has  my  scalp,  but  he  hasn't.  I'll  go  through  like 
greased  lightning.  That's  an  Injun  and  outlaw  coun- 
try both;  and  I  have  to  ford  the  Sweetwater  three 


"PONY  EXPRESS  BELL" 

times  in  sixty  yards !  Slade's  a  hard  man  to  work  for, 
too,  they  say.  He  won't  stand  for  any  foolishness. 
But  I'll  get  along  with  him  all  right  as  soon  as  he  finds 
out  I  do  my  duty.  So  long,  Red.  I'll  see  you  later. 
You'll  hear  from  me,  anyway.  I  told  you  I  was  going 
to  ride  pony  express,  remember?  I  used  to  think  I'd 
be  president;  but  I'd  rather  have  this  run  than  be  boss 
at  Washington  all  the  rest  of  my  life !  " 

He  hastily  shook  hands.  Dave  envied  him  heartily, 
but  he  also  wished  him  success.  Nobody  deserved  suc- 
cess more  than  Billy.  Of  course,  to  be  the  youngest 
rider  on  the  whole  route  from  St.  Joe  to  Sacramento 
was  a  big  thing,  and  nobody  can  blame  Davy  for  a 
trace  of  honest  envy.  He  went  back  to  his  day's 
routine.  The  bull  train  pulled  out  at  once,  and  Billy 
started  with  it  for  his  new  job. 

Soon  word  from  him  travelled  back  to  Laramie 
and  Dave  by  Irish  Tom,  who  received  the  saddle  bags 
from  him  at  Red  Buttes,  and  by  Gentleman  Bob,  who 
heard  from  him  through  the  other  stage  drivers. 
"  Pony  Express  Bill  "  he  began  to  be  called ;  the  "  kid  " 
rider  between  Red  Buttes  and  Three  Crossings,  on 
the  Platte  and  Sweet  water  Rivers  of  the  Salt  Lake 
Trail  in  what  is  to-day  south  central  Wyoming  but 
which  was  then  western  Nebraska  Territory. 

Great  things  were  reported  of  Billy.  One  time 
when  the  rider  west  of  him  was  killed,  Billy  rode  his 
own  run  and  the  other  run,  too,  and  all  the  way  back 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

again — 322  miles  at  a  stretch!  When  Mr.  Slade 
learned  of  this  he  said:  "That  boy's  a  brick!"  and 
he  gave  Billy  extra  pay. 

Another  time  bandits  stopped  Billy  and  demanded 
his  express  package,  which  they  knew  contained  a  large 
sum  of  money.  But  Billy  was  smart.  He  had  hidden 
the  real  package  under  his  saddle,  and  now  he  threw 
them  a  dummy  package  containing  only  paper.  When 
they  stooped  to  pick  it  up  and  examine  it  he  spurred 
his  horse  right  over  them  and  was  away,  flying  up 
the  trail — and  although  they  fired  at  him  they  never 
touched  him ! 

Another  time  the  Sioux  Indians  ambushed  him, 
and  when  he  dashed  past  they  chased  him.  But  he  lay 
flat  on  his  pony's  back  while  the  arrows  whistled  over 
him,  and  he  rode  twenty-four  miles  without  stopping. 

Another  time  one  bandit  halted  him  in  a  lonely 
canyon. 

"  You're  a  mighty  leetle  fellow  to  be  takin'  sech 
chances,"  said  the  bandit,  while  he  held  his  gun  pointed 
at  Billy's  head. 

"  I'm  as  big  as  any  other  fellow,  I  reckon,"  an- 
swered Billy,  coolly. 

"  How  do  you  figure  that  ?  "  asked  the  bandit. 

Billy  tapped  his  Colt's  revolver. 

"  I  may  be  little,  but  I  can  shoot  as  hard  as  if  I 
were  General  Jackson,"  he  warned. 

"  I  expect'   you  can,   an'  I  reckon  you  would," 

300 


"PONY  EXPRESS  BILL" 

chuckled  the  bandit,  tickled  with  Billy's  nerve ;  and  he 
let  him  ride  on. 

So  it  was  not  long  before  "  Pony  Express  Bill  " 
was  drawing  $150  a  month  pay,  which  was  the  top 
wages  paid  on  the  road. 

Meanwhile  Dave  felt  that  his  work  at  Fort  Laramie 
was  rather  tame.  It  was  just  the  same  thing  day  after 
day,  with  only  ordinary  pay,  and  three  meals  a  day, 
and  a  good  bed  at  night,  and  a  lot  of  friends — and — 
and — that  seemed  about  all,  except  that  he  was  learn- 
ing all  the  time  from  books  and  from  the  people  about 
him;  and  he  knew  that  he  was  growing  inside  as  well 
as  outside.  To  tell  the  truth,  he  was  doing  first-rate 
and  getting  ahead,  and  was  being  given  more  and  more 
responsibility  and  showing  that  he  could  carry  it; 
but  of  course  he  wanted  to  prove  his  pluck  by  riding 
pony  express.  That  seemed  bigger — whether  it  really 
was  or  not. 

His  chance  came,  as  it  generally  does  to  everybody 
who  waits  for  it  and  holds  himself  ready.  All  the 
summer  there  had  been  talk  among  the  army  officers 
at  the  post  and  between  them  and  the  stage  passen- 
gers who  passed  through  of  affairs  in  the  East,  where 
a  presidential  campaign  was  being  hotly  carried  on. 
It  appeared,  by  the  talk  and  by  the  papers,  that  a  man 
named  Abraham  Lincoln  was  a  candidate  of  the 
North,  and  that  Stephen  A.  Douglas  was  a  candidate 
of  the  South,  and  that  if  Mr.  Lincoln  was  elected  South 

301 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Carolina  and  other  Southern  States  threatened  to 
withdraw  from  the  Union.  They  claimed  that  each 
State  had  the  right  of  governing  itself,  and  that  States 
and  Territories  should  decide  for  themselves  whether 
or  not  they  would  own  slaves  within  their  borders. 

The  question  as  to  whether  Kansas  should  be 
"  slave  "  or  "  free "  had  caused  fighting  when  that 
territory  was  being  settled;  and  Billy  Cody's  father, 
who  was  a  "  Free  State "  man,  had  been  so  badly 
stabbed  that  he  never  recovered.  The  settlement  of 
Nebraska  Territory  also  had  brought  on  much  bitter 
feeling  between  North  and  South — for  the  North  was 
against  the  extension  of  slavery.  So  was  Abraham 
Lincoln.  The  army  officers  at  Fort  Laramie,  some  of 
whom  were  Northerners  and  some  Southerners,  de- 
clared that  the  election  of  Lincoln  would  mean  war; 
according  to  the  Northern  officers,  if  the  Southern 
States  tried  to  withdraw;  according  to  the  Southern 
officers,  if  the  Southern  States  were  not  permitted  to 
withdraw. 

The  election  was  to  be  held  on  November  6,  and  it 
would  be  November  10  before  the  news  of  who  won 
could  reach  Laramie  by  the  Pony  Express.  That 
was  a  long  time  at  the  best  when  such  important  events 
were  occurring;  but  even  at  that  Davy  (who  was  as 
impatient  as  anybody)  found  that  he  might  be  dis- 
appointed, for  he  was  ordered  by  Captain  Brown  to 
take  the  stage  west  in  the  morning  and  go  up  the  line 
to  Horseshoe  Station  on  Government  business. 

302 


"PONY  EXPRESS  BILL" 

When  the  stage  left,  early,  Irish  Tom  was  still 
standing  ready  beside  his  horse  to  take  the  saddle  bag 
from  Charley  Cliff.  Charley  had  not  come — and  it 
was  learned  afterward  that  the  mail  was  late  in  start- 
ing from  St.  Joseph  because  it  had  waited  for  the 
election  news. 

So  Dave  mounted  the  driver's  box  on  the  C.  O.  C. 
&  P.  P.  stage  beside  Gentleman  Bob,  and  they  drove 
away  and  left  the  unknown  news  behind  them. 

However,  not  for  long.  They  had  gone  scarcely 
fifteen  miles  when  Gentleman  Bob,  who  had  been  con- 
stantly glancing  over  his  shoulder,  exclaimed :  "  There 
he  comes !  Look  at  him,  will  you !  " 

By  "  he  "  could  be  meant  only  one  person — the 
Pony  Express  rider.  Yes,  the  Pony  Express  it 
was — a  dark  spot,  rising,  falling,  rising,  falling,  pelt- 
ing up  the  dusty  trail. 

"  He's  certainly  going  some,"  commented  the  stage 
messenger,  who  this  time  was  not  Captain  Cricket,  but 
was  Jack  Mayfield. 

Bob  flung  his  lash  over  the  backs  of  his  four  mules 
and  broke  them  into  a  gallop.  But  although  the  stage 
was  empty  this  trip  and  the  mules  fresh,  and  the  road 
smooth,  the  pony  express  closed  in  as  fast  as  if  the 
coach  were  standing  still. 

"  Going  to  pass  us/'  laughed  Bob,  and  slowed  his 
team. 

And  the  pony  express  did  pass  them.    There  was 

303 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

sudden  staccato  of  hoofs,  like  a  long  roll  of  a  drum — 
a  rush,  a  whoop — "Who's  elected?"  yelled  Bob, 
turning  in  his  seat  to  meet  the  onswoop. 

"  Lincoln.  New  York  gives  fifty  thousand  ma- 
jority/' shouted  back  Irish  Tom;  and  in  a  cloud  of 
dust  he  was  away,  leaving  a  flake  of  froth  on  the  coach 
box  at  Davy's  feet. 

"Lincoln,  huh?"  remarked  Gentleman  Bob. 
"  Well,  I  wonder  what'll  happen  now.  But  that  boy's 
sure  riding/'  and  he  gazed  reflectively  after  Irish  Tom. 


XXII 

CARRYING  THE  GREAT  NEWS 


"  LINCOLN'S  elected !  "  The  words  continued  to 
ring  in  Davy's  ears,  and  the  flying  shape  of  the  Pony 
Express,  bearing  the  great  news,  was  constantly  in  his 
eyes  as  at  trot  and  gallop  the  stage  rolled  along  the 
Salt  Lake  Overland  trail  from  Fort  Laramie  on.  Irish 
Tom  and  his  hard  pushed  pony  were  out  of  sight,  but 
they  were  not  forgotten. 

The  trail  was  almost  deserted  this  morning;  only 
one  emigrant  train  was  passed,  and,  drawing  aside 
to  let  the  stage  by,  it  cheered  to  the  three  persons  on 
the  box :  "  Hooray  for  Lincoln !  " 

Davy  cheered  back;  but  Gentleman  Bob  and  Mes- 
senger Mayfield  looked  straight  ahead  and  said 
nothing.  That  was  the  fashion.  Emigrant  trains  and 
bull  trains  were  considered  beneath  the  notice  of  the 
stage  coach  box. 

However,  in  another  mile  something  did  attract 
the  notice  of  Gentleman  Bob,  whose  eyes  were  ever 
on  the  lookout,  although  he  usually  spoke  little. 

"  Looks  like  trouble,  yonder,"  he  remarked,  point- 
ing with  his  whip.  "  How's  your  gun,  Jack?  O.  K. ?  " 

"Yes." 

20  305 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Better  have  it  ready.  Red,  you  get  down  in  the 
boot  under  the  seat  and  stay  there,  when  I  say  so. 
You're  liable  to  be  shot  full  of  holes." 

Bob  gathered  his  lines  tighter  and  peered  keenly. 
His  jaw  set,  as,  holding  up  his  mules,  prepared  for 
sudden  dash,  he  sent  them  forward  at  brisk  trot. 
Messenger  Mayfield  shifted  his  short  double-barrelled 
gun  loaded  with  buckshot  from  between  his  knees  to 
his  lap  and  pulled  down  his  hat. 

Half  a  mile  before,  in  the  hollow  of  the  sweeping 
curve  which  the  coach  was  rounding,  was  a  riderless 
horse  moving  restlessly  hither-thither  in  the  brush  be- 
side the  trail ;  he  was  equipped  with  saddle  and  bridle — 
at  least  so  Bob  muttered,  and  so  the  messenger  agreed, 
and  so  Davy  believed  that  he,  also,  could  see — but  of 
the  rider  there  was  no  sign  yet. 

Indians !  Then  why  hadn't  they  taken  the  horse  ? 
Or  road  agents,  as  the  bandits  were  called !  The  rider 
must  have  been  shot  from  the  saddle.  And  would 
the  coach,  passing,  find  him?  Or  were  the  Indians, 
surprised  in  the  act,  ambushed  and  waiting?  Or  what 
had  happened,  anyway? 

"  That's  the  Pony  Express  horse,  gentleman,"  said 
Bob,  quietly.  "  I  know  the  animal.  There's  been  bad 
work." 

Mr.  Mayfield,  who  was  as  nervy  as  Bob  himself, 
nodded;  Davy  breathed  faster,  his  heart  beating 
loudly;  Bob  flung  his  lash,  straightened  out  his  team, 

306 


CARRYING  THE  GREAT  NEWS 

and  with  brake  slightly  grinding  descended  the  hill  at 
a  gallop. 

"  I    see    him ! "    exclaimed    Messenger    Mayfield. 
"  At  the  edge  of  the  road.     He's  hurt,  but  he  can 


move." 


Davy,  too,  could  see  a  dismounted  man — Irish  Tom 
or  somebody  else — half  raising  himself  from  the 
ground,  and  crawling  into  the  trail,  where  he  sat  wav- 
ing his  handkerchief. 

With  rattle  and  shuffle  and  grinding  of  brake  the 
coach  bore  down,  prepared  to  stop — and  prepared  for 
anything  else  that  might  befall. 

Yes,  it  was  Irish  Tom,  the  Pony  Express  rider,  and 
that  was  his  horse,  the  saddle  bags  still  on  it,  fidgeting 
in  the  brush.  Tom  was  half  lying,  half  sitting,  sup- 
porting himself  with  one  arm  and  waving  with  the 
other.  His  hat  was  gone,  his  uplifted  hand  bleeding, 
one  leg  seemed  useless,  and  altogether  he  appeared  in 
a  sad  state. 

In  a  cloud  of  dust  from  the  braced  hoofs  and 
locked  wheels  Gentleman  Bob  halted  with  the  leaders' 
fore  hoofs  almost  touching  Tom. 

"What's  the  matter  here?" 

Tom's  face,  grimy  and  streaked  and  pinched  with 
pain,  gazed  up  agonizedly,  but  he  did  not  mince  words. 
The  Pony  Express  rider  was  superior  even  to  a  stage 
driver. 

"  Catch  that  horse  for  me.    I've  broken  my  leg." 

Down  from  the  box  nimbly  swung  Mr.  Mayfield; 
307 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

jamming  his  brakes  tighter  and  tying  the  lines  short, 
down  swung  Gentleman  Bob.     Down  clambered  Dave. 

"How'd  it  happen?" 

"  Fell  and  threw  me.  Catch  him  and  help  me  on ; 
and  hurry  up." 

"Catch  him,  Jack;  you  and  Dave,"  bade  Bob, 
crisply.  "  Where's  it  broken,  Tom  ?  " 

"  High  up,  but  that  doesn't  matter.  I'll  ride  if  it 
kills  me.  I'm  late  now." 

Luckily  the  horse  was  easily  caught;  his  dragging 
lines,  entangled  in  a  sage  clump,  held  him  until  Mr. 
Mayfield  laid  hand  upon  them.  When  Dave,  with  Mr. 
Mayfield  leading  the  horse,  returned  into  the  road 
and  hustled  back  to  Bob  and  Tom,  Bob  was  argu- 
ing tensely. 

"  But  you  can't,  Tom!  You  can't  do  it,  man!  You 
can't  fork  a  saddle  with  your  hip  broken." 

Tom  struggled  to  sit  up — and  the  great  beads  of 
sweat  stood  out  on  his  red  brow. 

"You  help  me  on,  and  tie  me  there;  that's  all  I 
ask.  I'll  make  it.  I've  got  to." 

"  We'll  take  you  on  to  the  next  station,  and  the 
saddle  bags,  too,'  retorted  Bob.  "  That's  the  quickest 
way.  Strip  that  horse,  Red.  Give  me  a  lift  with  Tom, 
here,  Jack.  Open  the  coach  door." 

"  But  there's  nobody  except  the  agent  at  the  next 
station,  Bob !  "  appealed  Tom,  wildly.  "  Who'll  take 
the  express  ?  " 


CARRYING  THE  GREAT  NEWS 

"  Then  we'll  go  through  to  the  next  station.  The} 
can  send  somebody  from  there,  I  reckon." 

Suddenly  a  great  thought  struck  Davy — and  he 
wondered  why  the  same  hadn't  occurred  to  the  others. 

"I'll  ride  it,  Tom!  I'll  ride  it,  Bob!  Let  me." 
And  he  sprang  for  the  express  pony. 

Bob  slapped  his  dusty  thigh :   The  idea  struck  him. 

"  Go  it,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Take  those  lines.  Un- 
buckle your  guns,  Tom,  old  man,  wrhile  I  hold  you." 

"Somebody  put  my  spurs  on  him,"  panted  Tom, 
tugging  at  his  belt  buckle. 

Words  had  been  rapid,  fingers  worked  fast;  and 
almost  in  less  lime  than  it  takes  to  tell  it,  after  the 
halting  of  the  coach,  Davy  was  in  the  Pony  Express 
saddle,  with  the  final  orders  filling  his  ears. 

"  Now  ride,  boy;  ride!  " 

Scarcely  yet  settled  into  the  stirrups,  he  bounded 
forward  (the  jerk  of  the  mettlesome  pony  almost 
snapped  his  head  loose),  and  was  away. 

"Ride,  boy;  ride!" 

Davy  jammed  tighter  his  hat ;  his  feet  clinging  to  the 
stirrups,  he  half  turned  in  the  saddle  and  waved  his 
hand  to  the  little  group  behind.  They  would  see  that 
he  was  all  right.  They  were  grouped  just  as  he  had  left 
them :  Mr.  Mayfield  standing,  where  he  had  strapped 
the  spurs  to  Davy's  heels  after  Dave  had  mounted; 
Gentleman  Bob  half  erect,  over  Tom,  from  whom  he 
had  passed  the  revolver  belt. 

But  even  as  Davy  looked  they  all  moved,  preparing 

309 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

to  lift  Tom  into  the  coach.  Davy  faced  ahead  and 
settled  to  his  work. 

"Ride,  boy;  ride!" 

Well,  he  could  ride !  he  knew  how;  and  if  he  didn't 
know  how  he  was  bound  to  stick,  anyway.  There  were 
the  plump  saddle  bags  under  him,  crossed  by  his  legs ; 
he  was  carrying  the  fast  mail — and  Lincoln  was 
elected ! 

The  pony  ran  without  a  break  and  needed  no  urg- 
ing. He  was  trained  to  his  work — a  stanch,  swift,  ap- 
parently tireless  animal.  The  wind  smote  Davy  in  the 
face,  bringing  water  to  his  eyes;  the  sandy,  beaten 
trail  flowed  backward  beneath  them  like  a  dun  torrent, 
the  sage  and  rocks  reeled  dizzily  past  on  either  hand, 
and  amidst  the  rhythmic  beat  of  hoofs  the  pony's 
breaths  rose  to  snorty  grunts. 

Now  another  emigrant  train  for  Salt  Lake  City 
and  the  Mormon  colony  dotted  the  trail  before.  Past 
them  thudded  Dave,  and  as  he  raced  down  the  line  he 
yelled  shrilly: 

"  Lincoln's  elected !     Lincoln's  elected !  " 

"  By  how  much?  " 

"New  York  £ives  him  fifty  thousand!" 

Dave  was  not  certain  what  this  conveyed,  exactly, 
but  it  had  sounded  important  from  Irish  Tom. 

Some  of  the  train  cheered,  some  growled,  but  he 
speedily  left  both  cheers  and  growls  behind  him. 

The  first  of  the  stations  appeared  ahead — a  blot 
of  darker  drab  beside  the  trail.  This  was  one  of  the 

310 


CARRYING  THE  GREAT  NEWS 

way  stations — the  stations  where  horses  were  changed 
in  less  than  two  minutes.  Two  minutes  was  the  limit, 
but  frequently  the  change  was  made  in  fifteen  seconds. 

Dave's  pony  seemed  to  know  where  he  was  and 
what  was  at  hand.  He  snorted,  and  at  pick  of  spur 
let  himself  out  a  little  longer  in  his  stride  and  doubled 
and  stretched  a  little  faster. 

The  station  swiftly  enlarged.  A  poor  place  it  was, 
Dave  remembered:  a  low  log  cabin,  sod  roofed,  with 
rude  log  stable  close  behind  it,  and  a  pole  corral.  The 
station  man  would  be  about  as  rude  in  appearance: 
unshaven,  well  weathered,  dressed  in  slouch  hat,  rough 
flannel  shirt,  red  or  blue,  belted  trousers  and  heavy 
boots.  There  he  lived,  by  the  roadside,  700  miles  into 
the  Indian  country,  alone  amidst  the  unpeopled,  roll- 
ing sagy  hills  through  which  flowed  the  North  Platte 
River  and  extended,  unending,  the  ribbon-like  road. 
Dave  could  see  him  standing  in  front  of  the  buildings, 
holding  the  relay  horse  and  peering  down  the  trail  for 
its  rider.  The  stations  were  required  by  the  company 
to  have  the  fresh  horse  saddled  and  bridled  and  ready 
half  an  hour  before  the  express  was  due. 

Dave  knew  his  duty,  too.  Not  slackening  pace,  he 
loosened  from  the  fastenings  the  saddle  bags  under 
him.  Up  at  full  gallop  he  dashed,  and  even  before 
he  had  pulled  his  pony  to  its  haunches,  he  tore  the 
saddle  bags  from  beneath  him  and  tossed  them  ahead. 
Then  he  was  off  in  a  twinkling,  staggering  as  he  landed. 

"  Quick !  "  he  gasped,  out  of  parched  throat. 

311 


BUFFALO  BELL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

The  station  man  had  stared,  but  he  grabbed  the 
saddle  bags. 

"  Who  are  you?    Where's  Tom?  " 

"  Hurt.    Coming  on  stage." 

The  saddle  bags  were  clapped  on  the  other  saddle. 
Dave  grasped  the  bridle  lines. 

"Bad?" 

"  Leg  broken."  And  Davy,  thrusting  foot  into 
stirrup,  vaulted  aboard  almost  over  the  station  man's 
head. 

One  last  twitch  to  the  saddle  bags. 

"What's  the  news?" 

"  Lincoln's  elected.  New  York  gives  him  fifty 
thousand  majority."  And  away  sprang  Dave,  head- 
long on  the  next  leg  of  his  route. 

Thudding  through  the  sand,  clattering  over  the 
rocks,  echoing  through  short  defiles,  ever  urging  his 
pony,  rode  Davy.  He  was  resolved  to  go  clear  through, 
to  the  home  station  at  Red  Buttes,  over  sixty  miles. 
The  stations  ahead  had  no  means  of  knowing  that  an 
accident  had  befallen  the  regular  rider;  and  to  mount 
another_substitute,  at  short  notice,  would  consume  val- 
uable time.  At  Red  Buttes  Billy  Cody  would  take  the 
saddle  bags — and  to  give  them  to  Billy  he  must. 

At  the  next  station,  fourteen  miles,  the  station  man 
had  helpers  in  the  shape  of  two  hostlers  or  stable 
hands.  They  also  gazed,  astonished  at  sight  of  Dave 
instead  of  Irish  Tom ;  but  no  one  wasted  precious  mo- 
ments in  explanations  The  conversation  was  much 

3112 


CARRYING  THE  GREAT  NEWS 

the  same  as  before — and  on  his  fresh  horse  Dave 
spurred  again  up  the  long,  long  trail.  He  passed  a 
toiling  bull  train.  "  Lincoln's  elected,"  he  shrieked  as 
before;  but  he  was  going  so  fast  that  he  did  not  catch 
their  response.  He  only  noted  them  wave  their  whips 
in  salute. 

Horseshoe  Station  hove  into  view.  This  was  head- 
quarter's  station  for  the  division.  Here  stayed,  when 
not  on  the  trail,  Mr.  Slade,  the  division  superintend- 
ent; and  he  was  in  front  of  the  station  cabin  with  the 
other  men,  peering  down  the  road. 

Davy  galloped  in.  He  was  assailed  by  a  volley  of 
queries — until  Mr.  Slade  cut  them  short. 

"No  matter,"  he  bade  curtly.  "Fasten  that 
mochila.  Now  ride,  my  lad ;  you're  half  an  hour  late !  " 

"  Lincoln's  elected,"  gasped  Davy,  spurring  away. 

He  was  getting  tired.  His  feet  were  growing 
numb,  and  his  ankles  were  being  chafed  raw.  Before 
he  arrived  at  the  next  station,  the  Platte  River  had  to 
be  forded.  As  he  passed  through,  a  man  sprang  into 
sight,  in  the  trail  at  the  farther  bank.  Dave's  heart 
leaped  into  his  throat.  The  man  was  partially  screened 
by  willows.  He  was  armed.  With  ears  pricked,  the 
horse  forged  ahead,  and  the  man  waited.  To  leave 
the  stream  bed  required  a  little  climb  up  the  rather 
steep  bank,  and  as  Dave  reached  it  out  whipped  the 
man's  revolver  and  the  muzzle  was  trained  true  at 
Dave.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  round  hole  covered 
every  inch  of  his  body.  His  horse  shied  and  balked. 

313 


BUFFALO  BELL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Throw  off  that  mail  bag." 

The  man  was  "  Yank/'  assistant  wagon  boss 
under  Charley  Martin !  Dave  recognized  him  at  once, 
although  the  slouch  hat  was  pulled  low.  But  beneath 
the  brim  the  eyes  were  those  of  "  Yank." 

"  No,"  panted  Dave,  trying  to  hold  his  voice  steady 
and  think  of  what  Billy  Cody  or  Irish  Tom  would  do. 
"  It's  only  election  news." 

1  Throw  off  that  mail  and  be  quick,  too,"  ordered 
"  Yank,"  with  a  string  of  curses. 

Hardly  knowing  what  he  did,  but  resolved  to  do 
something,  Dave  plunged  his  spurs  into  his  pony's 
heaving  flanks.  With  a  great  snort  and  a  long  leap 
the  pony  lunged  forward  straight  up  the  bank. 
"  Yank  "  uttered  a  sudden  vicious  exclamation  and 
dived  aside ;  but  the  horse's  shoulder  struck  him,  hurled 
him  aside,  and  at  the  instant  veering  sharply  into  the 
fringe  of  willows  Dave  sent  his  mount  crashing 
through.  The  willows  slapped  him  in  the  face  and  on 
the  body.  He  bent  low — in  a  moment  more  they  were 
out  of  the  willows,  again  into  the  trail,  and  tearing 
onward.  He  heard  a  shot — just  one;  but  the  bullet 
went  wide,  and  thudity,  thudity,  he  was  galloping  safe. 
A  little  shaky,  Dave  laughed;  he  felt  like  giving  a 
whoop — although  he  could  not  spare  breath  for  even 
that.  He  imagined,  though,  how  mad  "  Yank  "  must 
be,  and  this  was  what  had  made  him  laugh. 

Even  with  the  excitement  of  the  hold-up  that  failed, 
the  road  began  to  seem  wearisome,  the  ride  one  monot- 

314 


CARRYING  THE  GREAT  NEWS 

onous  pound.  The  chafing  stirrups  tortured  his  ankles 
almost  beyond  endurance — but  not  quite ;  no,  not  quite. 
The  saddle  chafed  his  thighs.  His  mouth  was  parched, 
he  could  scarcely  breathe ;  he  could  scarcely  see,  when, 
ever  and  anon,  his  head  swam  giddily.  He  forded 
the  river  again.  From  throbbing  pain,  his  ankles 
changed  to  the  relief  of  numbness,  and  his  feet,  blis- 
tered, and  his  blistered  thighs  gradually  ceased  to  be 
his;  they  felt  as  if  they  belonged  to  somebody  else. 

He  had  vague  recollection  of  arriving  at  the  way 
stations,  of  staggering  from  horse  to  horse,  of  being 
helped  into  the  saddle,  of  voices  hailing  him,  and  hands 
and  voices  forwarding  him  on  again.  Once  he  passed 
the  east-bound  stage — and  again  he  passed  it,  or  an- 
other ;  and  he  piped  to  the  staring  faces :  "  Lincoln's 
elected.  New  York  gives  fifty  thousand  majority." 
The  words  issued  mechanically,  and  he  did  not  know 
what  effect  they  had. 

He  had  vague  recollection  that  a  bevy  of  Indians 
yelled  at  him  and  flourished  their  bows,  and  that  he 
heard  the  hiss  of  arrows  travelling  even  faster  than 
he ;  but  he  could  not  stop  to  argue.  The  one  fact  that 
stuck  in  his  mind  was  that  he  was  nearly  on  time. 
"  Three  minutes  late,'*  he  thought  that  somebody  said 
at  the  last  station  where  he  changed  horses.  And — 
"  Go  it,  lad!  You're  a  plucky  one." 

"  Three  minutes  late  "  was  all.  The  thought  buoyed 
him  up  and  glued  him  to  his  saddle.  Gallop,  gallop, 
over  rock  and  sand,  through  brush  and  through  the 

315 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

bare  open  and  through  occasional  scrubby  growth  of 
trees;  through  shaded  canyons,  and  through  the  burn- 
ing, windy  sunshine. 

Was  that  Red  Buttes?  Was  that  really  Red 
Buttes  at  last — the  end  of  his  trip,  where  waited  Billy 
Cody  ?  Supposing  Billy  wasn't  there ;  would  they  want 
him  to  continue  riding,  riding,  forever?  He  uttered 
a  little  sob  of  despair,  but  he  set  his  teeth  hard,  and 
resolved  that  he'd  do  it;  he'd  do  it,  if  he  had  to. 

The  road  was  hilly  and  his  horse  flagged.  He 
spurred  ruthlessly  and  struck  with  his  hat.  If  he  did 
not  arrive  on  time  he  would  be  ashamed,  for  nobody 
could  know  how  hard  he  had  tried.  Up  the  hill  he 
forced  his  pony  and  would  not  let  him  relax  into  a 
trot.  Down  the  grade  he  galloped — every  forward 
jump  a  torment.  Red  Buttes — that  must  be  Red 
Buttes — wavered  strangely  amidst  the  level  expanse 
before.  But  he  reached  it.  At  least  he  thought  that 
he  reached  it,  and  he  fumbled  at  his  saddle  bags  to 
loosen  them. 

Somebody  rushed  forward  as  if  to  meet  him  and 
help  him;  and  he  saw,  lined  plainly  amidst  the  confused 
other  countenances  and  figures,  the  astonished  face  of 
Billy. 

"It's  Red!  Look  out!  He'll  fall  off!"  Billy's 
voice  rang  like  a  trumpet. 

"Where's  the  regular  man?"  they  demanded. 

"  Tom's    hurt — away    back.      I    took    his    place. 

316 


CARRYING  THE  GREAT  NEWS 

Quick,  Billy!  Go  on.  Election  news.  Lincoln's 
elected." 

Billy  vented  an  exclamation.  He  was  into  the 
saddle  atop  the  saddle  bags ;  he  sprang  away. 

"  Take  good  care  of  that  kid,"  he  called  back. 
"  He's  a  good  one." 

"  You  bet  we  will." 

"  Am  I  on  time  ?  "  wheezed  Davy,  vaguely,  unable 
to  see  straight. 

"  Two  minutes  ahead  of  time,  lad." 

Then  they  picked  up  Davy  and  carried  him  in, 
for  he  had  fallen.  He  felt  that  he  was  entitled  to  fall. 
Besides,  he  could  not  have  walked  to  save  his  life,  now 
that  he  was  done  with  the  saddle  bags. 


XXIII 
A  BRUSH  ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE 


DAVY  was  so  stiff  and  sore  that  for  several  days 
he  moved  around  very  little;  but  he  learned  that  the 
news  which  he  had  brought  in  was  being  rushed  west- 
ward at  a  tremendous  rate.  Billy  Cody  had  ridden 
the  last  ten  miles  of  his  own  run  in  thirty  minutes; 
and  by  special  rider  from  Julesburg  the  tidings  "  Lin- 
coln's elected ! "  had  been  taken  into  Denver  only  two 
days  and  twenty-one  hours  out  of  St.  Joseph — 665 
miles. 

When  Davy  was  on  his  way  back  to  Laramie  he 
heard,  at  Horseshoe  Station,  that  the  news  had  been 
carried  through  to  California  in  eight  days — two  days 
less  than  schedule!  That  was  riding!  And  although 
he  never  again  was  on  Pony  Express,  he  felt  that  to  the 
end  of  his  life  he  would  be  proud  of  having  ridden  it 
once  and  of  having  performed  well. 

The  people  at  Fort  Laramie  appreciated  what  Davy 
had  done,  and  if  he  had  not  been  a  sensible  boy  the 
praise  that  he  got  would  have  turned  his  head.  Cap- 
tain Brown  it  was  who  summoned  him  over  to  the 
Brown  quarters  one  evening  and  asked  flatly: 

318 


A  BRUSH  ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE 

"  Dave,  how  would  you  like  to  go  to  West  Point 
and  be  educated  for  a  soldier  ?  " 

Dave  gulped,  in  surprise,  and  blushed  red.  Such 
an  education  had  been  beyond  his  dreams. 

"  You  have  the  right  stuff  in  you,  boy,"  continued 
the  captain,  eyeing  him.  "  You've  made  a  good  start, 
but  you  can't  continue  knocking  around  this  way. 
The  frontier  won't  last  forever.  When  the  telegraph 
comes  through,  connecting  the  West  with  the  East, 
the  Pony  Express  will  have  to  quit;  and  there'll  soon 
be  a  railroad,  and  then  the  stage  coach  business  will 
have  to  quit.  If  we  have  war  (and  things  look  like 
it),  I'll  be  ordered  out;  so  will  the  other  officers  and 
men  here,  and  what  will  happen  to  you  is  a  problem. 
See?  If  you  want  to  go  to  West  Point  you  ought  to 
begin  preparing,  so  as  to  be  ready  when  you're  old 
enough  to  enter.  It's  no  easy  matter  to  take  the  course 
at  the  Academy;  but  it's  the  finest  education  in  the 
world,  even  if  you  don't  stay  in  the  army.  I  don't  want 
you  to  go  there  with  the  idea  of  being  a  fighting  man. 
Army  officers  are  the  last  persons  of  all  to  wish  for 
fighting.  The  army  has  a  great  work  to  do  outside 
of  war.  We're  supposed  to  civilize  the  country  and 
keep  it  peaceful.  At  West  Point  your  body  is  built 
up,  and  what  you  learn,  you  learn  thoroughly.  You 
come  out  fit  to  meet  every  kind  of  emergency.  What 
do  you  say?  If  you  say  '  yes/  then  I'll  make  applica- 
tion for  you  to  the  President  direct  and  ask  him  to 

319 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

appoint  you  '  at  large/  as  he  has  a  right  to  do,  just  as 
if  you  were  my  own  son." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  stammered  Davy,  red.  "  I'd  like  to 
go." 

"  Good !  "  exclaimed  the  captain,  shaking  with  him. 
"  I'll  make  arrangements  so  that  if  I'm  ordered  out 
you'll  be  in  the  right  hands." 

Events  seemed  to  occur  fast.  By  Pony  Express 
dispatches  and  the  tissue  newspapers  it  was  learned 
that  South  Carolina  had  withdrawn  from  the  Union 
and  that  the  other  Southern  States  were  following 
suit.  Abraham  Lincoln  in  his  inauguration  address 
besought  peace  but  stood  firmly  for  a  United  States. 
His  address  was  carried  from  Saint  Joseph  to  Sacra- 
mento, 1966  miles,  in  seven  days  and  seventeen  hours 
— a  new  record.  But  when  arrived  the  word  that 
on  April  12  the  South  Carolina  troops  had  bombarded 
Fort  Sumter,  then  everybody  knew  that  the  war  had 
begun. 

Another  important  thing,  also,  occurred.  Before 
spring  a  stranger  who  created  considerable  talk  came 
through  by  stage  bound  west.  He  was  Mr.  Edward 
Creighton — a  pleasant  gentleman  with  an  Irish  face; 
and  was  on  his  way  to  Salt  Lake  looking  over  the 
country  with  a  view  to  putting  in  a  telegraph  line 
through  to  Salt  Lake  City.  A  California  company  was 
to  build  from  California  east  to  Salt  Lake  and  it  was 
rumored  that  the  Government  offered  a  payment  of 
$40  ooo  a  year  to  the  company  that  reached  Salt  Lake 

320 


A  BRUSH  ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE 

the  first.     This  meant,  of  course,  a  line  clear  across 
from  the  Missouri  to  the  Pacific  coast. 

In  the  hurly-burly  of  troops  preparing  to  leave  for 
the  front  in  the  East,  Davy  had  the  idea  that  he,  too, 
should  go  as  a  drummer  boy,  maybe.  The  sight  of 
Billy  Cody  hurrying  through  was  hard  to  bear. 

Billy  appeared  unexpectedly  on  the  stage  from 
Horseshoe  Station,  where  he  had  been  an  "  extra  " 
rider  under  direct  orders  of  Superintendent  Jack 
Slade  himself. 

"Hello,  Billy!" 

"  Hello,  Dave." 

"Where  are  you  going  now,  Billy?" 

"  Back  home.  I  haven't  been  home  for  a  year,  and 
my  mother  wants  to  see  me.  She's  poorly  again.  I 
guess  I'd  better  be  where  things  are  boiling,  too.  This 
war  won't  last  more  than  six  months,  they  say;  but 
Kansas  is  liable  to  be  a  hot  place  with  so  many  South- 
erners just  across  the  border  in  Missouri.  I  ought  to 
be  on  hand  in  case  of  trouble  around  home." 

That  was  just  like  Billy — to  be  on  hand!  Dave 
had  more  than  half  a  mind  to  accompany  him  to 
Leavenworth,  and  Captain  Brown,  about  to  leave  him- 
self, had  about  decided  that  Leavenworth  would  be  the 
best  place,  when  the  matter  was  solved  by  the  appear- 
ance of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Baxter,  who  arrived  on  the 
next  stage  from  the  west. 

"  Gee    whillikins !  "    exclaimed    Dave,    overjoyed, 
rushing  to  meet  him     "  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 
21  321 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Oh,  merely  coming  through  on  my  way  from 
Salt  Lake  back  to  Denver,"  laughed  Mr.  Baxter.  "  I'm 
messenger  on  the  stage  between  Julesburg  and  Denver, 
but  I've  been  off  on  a  little  vacation  with  a  survey 
party  for  a  new  stage  road.  I  heard  you  were  here. 
You're  celebrated  since  you  made  that  splendid  ride, 
Davy." 

Davy  blushed  again.  He  hated  to  blush,  but  he 
had  to. 

"  What  are  you  doing  these  days  ?  "  demanded  Mr. 
Baxter. 

As  soon  as  he  heard  of  Davy's  plans  and  present 
fix,  he  insisted  that  Davy  travel  down  to  Denver  with 
him  and  stay  there. 

"  Room  with  me,  Dave?  "  he  proffered  generously. 
"  I  need  a  bunky.  You  can  get  work  easy  enough — 
I  know  the  very  place  where  they  can  use  a  boy  who 
can  write  and  figure — and  I'll  tutor  you.  It  will  do 
me  good  to  brush  up  a  little  in  mathematics  and  all 
that." 

Captain  Brown  agreed,  and  the  matter  was 
promptly  settled.  Away  went  Dave,  and  the  next  day 
Captain  Brown  himself  left  for  Fort  Leavenworth, 
and  then — where?  His  going  would  have  made  Lar- 
amie  rather  empty  for  Dave. 

Denver  had  grown  amazingly.  There  was  now  no 
"  Auraria  " ;  all  was  Denver  City — and  what  had  been 
known  as  "  Western  Kansas  "  and  the  "  Territory  of 
Jefferson,"  was  the  Territory  of  Colorado.  On  both 

322 


A  BRUSH  ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE 

sides  of  Cherry  Creek  many  new  buildings,  two  and 
three  stories,  some  of  the  buildings  being  brick,  had 
gone  up ;  potatoes  and  other  produce  were  being  raised, 
and  the  streets,  busier  than  ever,  were  thronged  with 
merchants  and  other  real  citizens,  as  well  as  with 
miners  and  bull  whackers. 

Mr.  Baxter  took  Davy  over  to  see  the  lots  that  they 
had  bought  for  the  sack  of  flour  two  years  before. 
Then,  the  lots  had  been  out  on  the  very  edge  of  town; 
now  they  were  right  in  the  business  district.  The 
Jones  family  had  not  cared  for  them;  had  sold  them 
for  a  mere  song  and  had  pushed  on  to  "  get  rich 
}uick  "  mining.  The  Joneses  had  gone  back  to  the 
States,  poor;  but  the  lost  lots  were  being  held  by  the 
^resent  owners  at  $1000  apiece. 

Mr.  Baxter  made  good  his  promise,  and  Dave 
found  a  niche  (which  appeared  to  have  been  made 
especially  for  a  red-headed  boy,  with  spunk,  who  could 
read  and  write  as  well  as  take  care  of  himself  on  the 
trail)  in  the  Elephant  Corral.  This  was  a  large  store 
building  and  yard  for  the  convenience  of  merchants 
and  overland  traffic.  It  dealt  in  flour  and  feed  and 
other  staples  consigned  to  it,  and  was  headquarters 
for  bull  outfits  arriving  and  leaving. 

The  war  excitement  continued.  Colorado,  like 
Kansas  and  Nebraska,  sent  out  its  volunteers  in  re- 
sponse to  the  calls  of  President  Lincoln.  Mr.  Baxter 
tried  hard  to  be  accepted  as  a  chaplain,  but  the  ex- 

323 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

amining  surgeons  refused  him,  he  confided  to  Davy, 
because  he  had  a  "  bum  lung/' 

"  So,  Davy  boy/'  he  said,  "  you  and  I  will  have  to 
fight  the  battle  of  peace,  and  win  our  honors  there, 
at  present." 

They  heard  that  Captain  Brown  had  been  made 
a  general,  and  Billy  Cody  and  Wild  Bill,  too,  were 
serving  on  the  Union  side  as  scouts  and  despatch 
bearers  in  Kansas  and  Missouri.  As  for  Davy,  he 
pegged  along,  rooming  and  boarding  with  Mr.  Baxter, 
doing  his  work  at  the  Elephant  Corral  and  studying 
evenings. 

Meanwhile,  the  staging  and  freighting  across  the 
plains  and  to  Salt  Lake  continued,  when  not  inter- 
rupted by  the  Indians.  The  Butterfield  "  Southern 
Overland,"  through  Texas  and  New  Mexico  and 
Arizona  to  California,  which  had  been  carrying  the 
Government  mail  for  two  years,  had  to  be  discon- 
tinued on  account  of  the  war  and  the  Apache  Indians; 
and  the  contract  was  given  to  the  "  Central "  route, 
operated  by  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell.  This  meant 
$400,000  a  year  from  the  Government,  and  it  looked 
as  though  the  Central  Overland,  California  &  Pike's 
Peak  need  no  longer  be  called  the  "  Clean  Out  of  Cash 
&  Poor  Pay  " ;  but  soon  the  word  came  that  the  whole 
line  had  been  bought  in  by  a  big  creditor,  Ben  Holladay. 

Great  things  were  expected  of  Ben  Holladay.  Dave 
had  seen  him  once  or  twice — a  large,  heavy  man,  with 
square,  resolute  face,  clean-shaven  cheeks,  and  gray 

324 


A  BRUSH  ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE 

beard.  He  was  a  veteran  freighter  and  trader  on  the 
plains,  and  had  been  in  business  in  Salt  Lake,  Cali- 
fornia, St.  Louis  and  New  York,  and  was  a  hustler. 
He  hastened  to  increase  the  service  of  his  stage  line. 
No  expense  or  trouble  was  too  much  for  him.  The 
line  was  known  now  as  "  Ben  Holladay's  Line/'  and 
"  The  Overland  Stage/'  The  old  route  north  from 
Julesburg  and  around  by  Fort  Laramie  was  changed 
to  a  shorter  route  (the  route  which  Mr.  Baxter  had 
helped  survey  for  Russell,  Majors  &  Waddell  at  the 
time  when  he  picked  up  Dave  at  Laramie),  which  from 
Latham,  sixty  miles  north  of  Denver,  veering  north- 
west crossed  the  mountains  at  Bridger's  Pass  for  Salt 
Lake.  At  Salt  Lake  the  celebrated  Pioneer  Stage  Line 
continued  with  passengers  and  mail  and  express  for 
Placerville,  California. 

The  very  fall  after  Dave  arrived  in  Denver  Mr. 
Creighton  finished  his  telegraph  line  into  Salt  Lake 
City,  and  won  the  $40,000  a  year  prize  offered  by  the 
Government.  The  California  company  met  him  there; 
the  first  message  was  flashed  through  from  coast  to 
coast  ("The  Pacific  to  the  Atlantic  sends  greeting," 
it  said ;  "  and  may  both  oceans  be  dry  before  a  foot  of 
all  the  land  that  lies  between  shall  belong  to  any  other 
than  a  united  country  ")  ;  and,  as  Captain  Brown  had 
predicted,  the  Pony  Express  must  stop.  The  Holladay 
stages  carried  the  mails. 

Every  morning  at  eight  o'clock  sharp  they  left 
Atchison  below  St.  Joseph  on  the  Missouri  River; 

525 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

at  Latham  the  Salt  Lake  coaches  proceeded  on  to  Salt 
Lake  and  the  Denver  coaches  turned  south  to  Denver 
— and  usually  got  in  with  such  regularity  that  Denver 
people  set  their  watches  by  them!  There  never  had 
been  such  a  stage  coach  magnate  as  Ben  Holladay. 
His  six-  and  nine-passenger  Concord  coaches  were  the 
best  that  could  be  built — and  on  the  main  line  alone 
he  used  100.  His  horses  were  the  best  that  could  be 
bought — and  of  these  and  of  mules  he  had,  on  the 
main  line,  3000.  His  drivers  were  paid  the  best  sala- 
ries— $125  and  $150  a  month.  And  for  carrying  the 
mails  he  received  from  the  Government  $650,000  a 
year.  When,  several  times  a  year,  he  went  over  his 
whole  lines  he  travelled  like  a  whirlwind  and  caused  a 
tremendous  commotion. 

But  speedily  the  regular  operation  of  the  Holladay 
Overland  Express  was  badly  interrupted,  for  the  In- 
dians began  to  ravage  up  and  down.  All  the  way 
from  central  Kansas  to  the  mountains  they  destroyed 
stations  and  attacked  stages.  The  stages  ran  two  at 
a  time,  for  company,  and  were  protected  by  squads 
of  soldiers;  but  even  then  they  did  not  always  get 
through,  and  Denver  was  cut  off  from  the  outside 
world  for  weeks  at  a  time.  Whenever  Mr.  Baxter 
started  out  as  messenger  Dave  was  afraid  that  he 
would  not  come  back  alive;  but  somehow  he  managed 
to  make  the  trip,  although  he  was  apt  to  return  in  a 
coach  riddled  with  arrows  and  bullets. 

The  summer  of  1864,  when  Davy  was  almost  seven- 

326 


A  BRUSH  ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE 

teen  and  old  enough  to  enter  the  Military  Academy, 
was  the  worst  season  of  all  for  Indian  raids.  Stations 
and  ranches  for  hundreds  of  miles  at  a  stretch  were 
pillaged,  and  the  stages  ceased  altogether  between  the 
mountains  and  the  Missouri.  Then,  in  the  fall,  there 
came  a  lull — of  which  Dave  was  heartily  glad,  for  he 
had  been  ordered  to  report  at  Fort  Leavenworth  for 
examination.  His  appointment  had  come,  signed  by 
Abraham  Lincoln. 

"  I'll  see  you  through  to  Atchison,  Dave,"  said 
Mr.  Baxter ;  "  and  to  Leavenworth,  too.  The  return 
trip  will  be  my  last  run." 

"  Why  so,  Ben  ?  "  asked  Davy,  astonished. 

"  Because  I'm  going  to  change  to  a  more  permanent 
business  while  I  can.  The  railways  are  coming.  The 
Central  Pacific's  building  a  little  every  year  east  out 
of  California,  and  as  soon  as  the  war's  over  the  Union 
Pacific  will  start  from  its  end,  at  the  Missouri.  When 
the  two  roads  meet,  with  trains  running  across  the 
continent,  this  staging  business  will  be  knocked  flat, 
and  we  messengers  will  be  stranded.  I've  got  my 
health  now ;  I'm  as  good  a  man  as  anybody,  and  when 
I  get  back  from  Atchison  I'll  go  into  something  dif- 
ferent. I've  several  offers  pending.  See  ?  " 

That  sounded  like  sense;  but  Dave  was  pleased 
that  Mr.  Baxter  had  not  quit  before  this  trip,  for  he 
had  counted  on  going  out  in  Ben's  coach. 

The  fare  from  Denver  to  the  Missouri  River  was 
up  to  $175,  but  Davy  had  saved  this,  and  more.  The 

327 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

stages  left  from  the  Planters'  Hotel.  The  first  stage 
out,  after  the  long  interruption,  created  much  excite- 
ment. At  least  fifty  passengers  clamored  for  places, 
but  there  was  room  for  only  nine  in  the  body — and 
even  they  were  crowded  by  mail  sacks.  Dave  sat  on 
the  driver's  box  with  Ben  and  the  driver,  who  was 
Bob  Hodge. 

Everybody  on  the  line  knew  Bob  Hodge ;  he  was  one 
of  the  "  king  whips,"  and  very  popular.  The  Holla- 
day  stage  drivers  out  of  the  principal  stations  dressed 
the  best  that  they  could,  for  they  were  persons  of  con- 
sequence. Polished  boots,  broadcloth  trousers  tucked 
in,  soft  silk  shirts  with  diamond  stud,  rakish  hat  and 
kid  gloves  were  none  too  good  for  them.  Bob  wore  a 
suit  of  buckskin — with  its  decorations  of  beads  and 
fringes,  the  finest  suit  in  Denver.  As  he  stepped  from 
the  hotel  he  elegantly  drew  on  a  pair  of  new  yellow 
kid  gloves.  He  nodded  to  Ben  and  Dave,  and  tucked 
a  brass  horn,  which  was  his  pride,  in  the  seat.  On  this 
horn  he  was  accustomed  to  perform  when  he  wanted 
amusement  and  when  he  approached  stations.  His 
other  pride  was  his  whip — of  ebony  handle  inlaid  with 
silver.  All  the  Holladay  stage  drivers  owned  their 
whips  and  would  not  lend  them. 

Bob  climbed  aboard,  Ben  and  Dave  followed.    Two 
hostlers  held  the  six-horse  team  by  the  bits;  another 
handed  up  the  lines  to  Bob — who  condescended  to  re 
ceive  them. 


A  BRUSH  ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE 

"  Think  she'll  get  through,  Bob?"  queried  several 
voices,  referring  to  the  coach. 

"  Oh,  I  reckon.  She's  been  through  several  times 
before,"  drawled  Bob. 

And  by  the  looks  of  "  her,"  she  evidently  had  been 
through  something.  It  had  been  a  beautiful  coach,  in 
the  beginning,  painted  a  glossy  bright  green,  trimmed 
with  gilt ;  but  now  it  was  scarred  by  storm  and  Indians. 
The  very  boot  curtain  behind  Dave's  feet  was  punc- 
tured in  two  places  by  arrows,  and  there  were  other 
holes  through  the  coach  sides. 

Bob  glanced  at  his  gold  watch.  He  grasped  lines 
and  whip,  nodded  at  the  hostlers  (they  sprang  from  the 
leaders'  bits),  released  the  heavy  brake  with  a  bang; 
to  the  crack  of  his  whip  forward  leaped  the  six  gray 
horses,  whose  harness  was  adorned  with  ivory  rings. 
The  watching  crowd  gave  a  cheer,  and,  driving  with 
one  hand,  Bob  played  what  he  called  "  Into  the  Wilder- 
ness." 

Bob's  run  was  only  to  Latham,  sixty  miles  down 
the  Platte.  Here  he  descended,  in  lordly  fashion,  from 
his  seat — and  out  of  the  coach  must  issue  the  pas- 
sengers, much  to  their  disgust.  The  mails  from  the 
west  had  been  piling  up  for  six  weeks,  and  were  of  more 
importance  than  people.  Forty-one  sacks  were  stored 
aboard  by  the  station  agent,  until  the  coach  was  heaped 
to  the  roof,  and  the  big  boot  was  overflowing.  The 
coach  now  carried  a  ton  of  mail — and  Ben,  Davy  and 
the  driver 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Express  messengers  rode  an  entire  division,  such 
as  between  Atchison  and  Denver,  between  Denver  and 
Salt  Lake,  and  between  Salt  Lake  and  Placerville  of 
California.  So  Ben  continued  on,  with  Dave  as  his 
guest.  The  new  driver  was  "  Long  Slim  " — another 
odd  character.  "  Long  Slim  "  was  six  feet  three  inches 
tall,  and  so  thin  that  he  claimed  when  he  stood  side- 
ways he  wouldn't  cast  a  shadow.  He  was  much  dif- 
ferent from  dandy  Bob  Hodge;  for  he  wore  cowhide 
boots,  a  blue  army  overcoat,  and  a  buffalo  fur  cap. 

Long  Slim  drove  to  Bijou  Station,  and  here  another 
driver  took  charge.  Stage  drivers  drove  forty  or 
fifty  miles,  or  from  "  home "  station  to  "  home " 
station.  In  between,  about  every  ten  miles,  were  the 
"  swing "  stations,  where  the  teams  were  changed. 
Meals  were  served  at  the  home  stations. 

The  change  of  drivers  was  interesting,  and  really 
made  little  difference  to  Dave,  for  none  of  them  talked 
much;  and  as  the  coach  rolled  further  eastward  into 
the  Indian  country  the  talk  was  less  and  less.  At  the 
swing  stations  the  teams  were  always  standing,  har- 
nessed and  waiting.  The  driver  grandly  tossed  down 
the  lines  and  yawned;  the  old  team  was  whisked  out 
in  a  jiffy,  the  new  team  trotted  into  place  without  being 
told,  the  station  men  handed  up  the  lines  to  the  box, 
and  away  went  the  stage  again. 

At  the  home  stations  the  driver — "  Long  Slim," 
or  "  Deacon,"  or  "  Dad,"  or  "  Mizzou,"  or  whatever 
he  was  called,  followed  his  lines  to  the  ground,  said 

330 


A  BRUSH  ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE 

(if  he  chose)  :  "  All  quiet  so  far,  Hank,"  and  strolled 
into  the  station.  If  he  mentioned  a  drink  of  water, 
half  the  station  force  rushed  to  get  it  for  him.  He  was 
a  king,  was  the  driver  on  the  Overland  Stage ! 

At  Bijou  Station,  six  soldiers  of  the  Colorado  cav- 
alry picked  up  the  stage  and  escorted  it,  riding  three 
on  a  side,  for  about  100  miles.  At  least  they  were 
there  when  Davy  peeked  out  of  the  boot  under  the 
driver's  seat,  where  he  slept,  curled  in  a  ball,  very  com- 
fortably, while  the  coach  rocked  and  swayed  through 
the  night. 

The  Seventh  Iowa  Cavalry  next  took  the  stage, 
galloping  and  trotting  beside  it  down  the  trail  along 
the  Platte  River. 

The  stage  stations  and  the  ranches  looked  as  if 
they  had  been  having  a  tough  time.  Most  of  the  ranch 
buildings  were  in  ruins  and  abandoned;  many  of  the 
stage  stations  had  been  burned,  and  the  station  men 
were  living  in  dug-outs,  some  of  which  were  merely 
holes  in  the  ground,  roofed  over  with  a  pile  of  dirt 
loop-holed  for  rifles.  Meals  at  the  home  stations  were 
$1.50,  cooked  by  the  station  agents'  brave  wives  or 
by  the  men  themselves.  Some  of  the  meals  were  very 
poor,  too — and  some  astonishingly  good. 

All  went  well  with  the  stage  until  between  Cotton- 
wood  and  Fort  Kearney  the  driver,  who  was  known 
as  "  Waupsie,"  pointed  to  the  south  with  his  whip. 

"There  they  are,"  he  said  quietly;  and  instantly 
flung  out  his  lash. 

881 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

The  silken  snapper  cracked  like  a  pistol  shot,  and 
out  launched  the  team.  Down  from  a  low  row  of 
sandy  buttes  half  a  mile  to  the  south  and  ahead  were 
speeding  a  bevy  of  dark  dots.  Davy's  heart  skipped 
a  beat.  The  dots  were  making  for  the  trail,  as  if  to 
cut  off  the  coach.  They  were  Indians,  sure. 

"What'll  we  do,  Waupsie?"  asked  Ben,  coolly. 
"Beat 'em  in?" 

"  We'll  do  the  best  we  can.  Six  miles  to  go  is  all," 
answered  Waupsie,  in  grim  manner.  And  he  yelled 
to  the  cavalrymen :  "  You'll  have  to  ride  faster  than 
that,  boys." 

The  corporal  in  charge  of  the  squad  had  spoken 
gruffly.  Three  before,  three  behind,  the  soldiers  were 
rising  and  falling  in  their  stirrups  and  urging  on  their 
horses.  The  grade  was  slightly  down  hill,  and  it  was 
evident  that  the  cavalry  horses  were  no  match  for  the 
stage  team — six  splendid  blacks,  grain  fed  and  long- 
legged.  Soon  the  coach  gradually  drew  even  with  the 
leading  soldiers  and  began  to  pass  them  in  spite  of  their 
efforts. 

"  Can't  wait,"  yelled  Waupsie,  "  Goodby.  Fact 
is,"  he  remarked,  half  to  himself,  "  I  can't  hold  'em. 
Drat  their  skins !  " 

The  whoops  of  the  Indians  were  plainly  heard ;  the 
breeze  was  from  the  south,  and  as  if  smelling  the  red 
enemy  the  stage  horses  were  wild  with  fear.  Braced, 
Waupsie  sawed  on  the  lines ;  his  foot  pressed  the  brake 
hard,  but  he  might  as  well  have  saved  his  strength. 

332 


A  BRUSH  ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE 

Waupsie  had  no  time  or  opportunity  to  use  a  gun; 
his  business  was  to  drive.  Ben  cocked  his  shot-gun 
lying  across  his  knees. 

"  Get  in  the  boot,  Dave,"  he  bade. 

Davy  started  to  slide  under,  but  stopped  ashamed. 
In  a  rush  the  Indians,  whooping  and  frantically  bran- 
dishing bows  and  lances,  charged  the  trail,  cutting  in 
behind,  and  racing  on  both  sides  before.  The  cavalry 
squad  were  now  far  in  the  rear. 

With  a  thud  an  arrow  landed  full  in  the  coach  side ; 
another  quivered  in  the  flank  of  the  off  wheel  horse — 
and  he  leaped  prodigiously. 

"  Steady !     Steady,  boys !  "  besought  Waupsie. 

The  arrows  were  hissing  and  thudding.  The 
painted  Indians  looked  like  demons.  Ben  flung  up  his 
gun,  took  hasty  aim,  and  at  the  report  the  nearest 
Indian  on  the  left  (a  particularly  determined  fellow) 
swerved  away,  reeling  in  his  saddle  pad.  Red  spots 
could  be  seen  on  his  side  where  the  buck-shot  had 
struck.  At  the  rear  the  cavalrymen  were  shooting 
vainly,  and  suddenly  Waupsie  gave  an  exclamation. 

"  Take  these  lines,  quick !  "  he  said.  "  Confound 
it!" 

An  arrow  had  pinned  his  right  arm  to  his  side.  He 
jerked  at  it  and  could  not  budge  it,  and  Ben  grabbed 
the  lines. 

"  You  take  my  gun,  Dave,"  he  ordered.  "  Don't 
shoot  unless  you  have  to;  and  then  shoot  the  ponies. 
Fight  'em  off." 

333 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Dave  promptly  seized  the  gun  from  Ben's  lap,  and 
at  once  he  saw  the  reason  in  the  last  order.  The  In- 
dians were  racing  on  either  side;  whenever  he  raised 
the  gun  to  aim  every  Indian  on  that  side  ducked  to  the 
opposite  flank  of  his  horse,  and  left  only  a  moccasin 
sole  in  sight.  That  was  a  small  mark  at  which  to  aim 
from  a  jolting  coach.  Dave  aimed  and  aimed  again; 
whenever  he  paused,  up  bobbed  the  Indians;  when  he 
pointed  the  gun  at  them,  down  they  ducked;  and  all 
the  time  they  were  shooting  from  underneath  their 
ponies'  necks  or  from  the  saddle. 

"  That's  right.  Fight  'em  off,  Davy.  It's  as  good 
as  emptying  your  gun,"  panted  Ben,  hanging  hard  to 
the  lines.  Waupsie  was  plying  the  whip — now  and 
then  to  drop  it  and  level  his  revolver. 

"Fight  'em  off,  Davy!" 

A  sharp  shock  almost  paralyzed  Dave's  right  arm, 
and  through  shoulder  and  arm  surged  a  red-hot  pain. 
He  nearly  dropped  the  gun.  He  glanced  at  his  shoulder 
and  saw  a  flush  of  crimson  dyeing  his  shirt.  But  no 
arrow  was  sticking  there  as  he  had  feared.  It  was 
only  a  gash.  All  right. 

"  Hurt,  Dave?  "  queried  Ben. 

"No,  not  much,"  said  Davy,  firmly 

"We'll  make  it,"  uttered  Waupsie.  "Got  to. 
Fight  'em  off,  boys!" 

The  sandy  plain  flowed  past;  another  horse  had 
been  wounded  and  the  coach  was  fairly  bristling  with 
shafts.  But  the  gallant  team  never  slackened  their 

334 


A  BRUSH  ON  THE  OVERLAND  STAGE 

furious  pace,  and  suddenly  with  a  final  chorus  of 
whoops  and  a  last  volley,  the  Indians  turned  and  raced 
away ;  for  yonder,  around  the  turn,  appeared  the  home 
station. 

"Humph!"  muttered  Waupsie.  "Those  Injuns 
are  just  on  a  lark.  Now  I'll  get  quit  of  this  arrow." 

The  cavalry  squad  did  not  arrive  until  after  the 
coach  had  left;  another  squad  escorted  it  to  Fort 
Kearney,  and  by  the  time  Atchison  was  reached,  two 
days  afterward,  Dave's  shoulder  was  beginning  to 
heal. 

"  It  doesn't  hurt  much,  really,  Ben,"  he  insisted ; 
but  he  was  proud  of  his  wound.  The  scar  he  carries 
to-day  and  other  scars  besides. 

From  Atchison  he  and  Ben  went  down  to  Leaven- 
worth.  On  the  street  at  Leavenworth  a  hand  clapped 
him  on  his  shoulder  (fortunately  his  well  shoulder), 
and  looking  up  he  looked  into  the  face  of  Billy  Cody. 


XXIV 

BUFFALO  BILL  IS  CHAMPION 


IT  was  not  "  Little  Billy  Cody  "  now — the  slender 
boy  whose  boots  had  seemed  too  large  for  him  even 
when  he  was  riding  Pony  Express.  It  was  "  Scout 
Cody  " — a  man  with  wide,  piercing  brown  eyes,  long 
wavy  yellow  hair,  a  silky  light-brown  moustache,  a 
pair  of  broad  shoulders  above  a  wiry  waist,  and  an 
alert,  springy  step.  But  he  was  "  Billy  Cody  "  after  all 

He  and  Wild  Bill  Hickok  had  been  serving  together 
with  the  Union  army  in  Missouri  and  Arkansas;  and 
now  he  was  at  Leavenworth  on  a  furlough  from  de- 
tached duty  at  St.  Louis. 

He  could  give  Davy  only  a  half  hour ;  Davy  heard 
some  of  his  adventures  and  learned  also  that  "  Mother 
Cody  "  had  gone  (what  a  brave,  sweet  woman  she  had 
been!),  and  that  the  Cody  home  in  Salt  Creek  Valley 
had  been  broken  up.  Truly,  the  West  was  under- 
going great  changes. 

Greater  changes  still  occurred  in  the  next  three 
years.  Dave  entered  West  Point  in  June  of  the  next 
summer,  1865,  and  for  the  succeeding  two  years  he 
studied  hard.  When  he  was  given  his  furlough  he 
spent  part  of  it  with  General  Brown,  who,  luckily,  was 
stationed  at  Fort  Leavenworth. 

386 


BUFFALO  BILL  IS  CHAMPION 

The  two  years  at  the  Military  Academy  had  formed 
a  different  boy  of  Dave.  The  strict  discipline  had 
taught  him  how  to  make  the  most  of  his  time,  and  the 
constant  drill  exercises  had  straightened  him  up  and 
trained  all  his  muscles  as  well  as  his  mind.  He  felt 
quite  like  a  man  as  he  shook  hands  with  the  general 
and  met  his  approving  eye. 

One  of  his  first  questions  to  the  general,  after  the 
greetings  and  polite  inquiries,  was  about  Billy  Cody. 

"'Billy'  Cody,  you  say?  "  laughed  the  general. 
"  Haven't  you  been  reading  the  papers  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I  haven't,  general/'  confessed  Dave. 
"  We  don't  have  much  time  to  read  the  papers  at  the 
Academy,  you  know." 

"  That's  so,"  chuckled  the  general.  "  You  don't. 
But  ycur  friend  and  mine,  Billy  Cody,  has  a  new  name. 
He's  now  '  Buffalo  Bill.'  He's  been  supplying  buffalo 
meat  to  the  grading  contractors  on  the  Kansas  Pacific. 
They  need  about  twelve  buffalo  a  day,  and  he  took  the 
job  for  $500  a  month.  It's  been  a  dangerous  busi- 
ness, and  he  hunts  alone  out  on  the  plains,  with  one 
man  following  in  a  wagon  to  do  the  butchering  and 
load  the  meat,  and  the  Indians  are  always  trying  to  get 
Bill's  scalp.  So  far  he's  outwitted  them,  and  he's  been 
bringing  in  the  meat  so  regularly  that  at  night  when 
he  rides  in  the  boys  in  the  camps  yell :  '  Here  comes 
old  Bill  with  more  buffalo ! '  and  '  Buffalo  Bill '  he  is. 
He's  been  married,  too,  you  know." 

22  337 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

"  Oh,  has  he  ?  "  And  Dave  spoke  impulsively. 
"  I'd  like  to  see  him  mighty  well." 

f<  You  can.  The  railroad's  running  trains  about 
500  miles  west  from  the  river,  nearly  to  Sheridan,  and 
you've  got  here  just  in  time  to  go  along  with  us  and 
see  a  big  contest  between  Buffalo  Bill  and  Billy  Corn- 
stock,  the  chief  of  scouts  at  Fort  Wallace  there. 
They're  to  hunt  buffalo  together  for  eight  hours,  and 
the  one  who  kills  the  most  wins  a  nice  little  purse  of 
$5°o,  g0^.  Billy  Comstock  is  a  fine  young  fellow,  a 
great  hunter  and  a  crack  shot — but  I'll  back  Buffalo 
Bill." 

So,  thought  Dave,  loyally,  would  he,  too. 

The  contest  had  excited  great  interest.  An  ex- 
cursion for  friends  of  the  rivals  and  for  sight-seers 
was  to  be  run  clear  through  from  St.  Louis.  Every 
army  officer  and  soldier  who  could  leave  was  going 
from  Fort  Leaven  worth.  Leader  of  all  was  General 
George  A.  Custer,  the  famous  "  Boy  General  with  the 
Golden  Locks  "  (as  during  the  war  the  newspapers 
had  called  him),  who  with  his  fighting  Seventh  Cav- 
alry had  arrived  at  Fort  Leavenworth  after  a  summer's 
campaign  on  the  plains.  Of  course,  everybody  in  army 
circles  knew  about  General  Custer,  the  dashing  cavalry- 
man, with  his  curling  yellow  hair  and  his  crimson  tie. 
Introduced  to  him  by  General  Brown,  Dave  blushed 
and  stammered  and  felt  that  he  must  cut  a  very  poor 
figure. 

It  seemed  strange  that  a  railroad  actually  was  on 


BUFFALO  BILL  IS  CHAMPION 

its  way  across  the  plains.  In  fact,  there  were  two  rail- 
roads jutting  out  from  the  Missouri  River  for  the 
farther  West.  Northward  from  Omaha  the  cele- 
brated Union  Pacific  had  built  clear  to  Julesburg,  and 
was  hustling  along  to  Utah  at  the  rate  of  five  and  six 
miles  a  day.  It  followed  the  old  Overland  Trail  up 
the  Platte,  and  ate  the  stages  as  it  progressed. 

Here  at  the  southward  the  Kansas  Pacific,  or 
"  Eastern  Division  "  of  the  Union  Pacific,  was  reach- 
ing westward  out  of  Leavenworth  for  Denver.  It 
followed  the  Smoky  Hill  Fork  Trail  taken  by  the  Hee- 
Haw  Express — the  memorable  outfit  of  Dave's  and 
Billy's  and  Mr.  Baxter's,  and  all,  to  the  "  Pike's  Peak 
Country  "  and  the  "  Cherry  Creek  diggin's."  Yes,  it 
did  seem  strange  to  Dave  to  be  riding  that  trail  in  a 
train  of  cars  drawn  by  a  snorting  steam-engine  and 
crowded  with  laughing,  shouting  people — travelling  in 
an  hour  a  distance  that  would  have  required  from  the 
Hee-Haw  Express  a  day,  perhaps !  But  the  Hee-Haw 
Express  had  not  been  such  a  bad  experience  after  all, 
and  it  had  been  fun  as  well  as  work. 

Gracious,  how  Kansas  had  settled !  The  Salt  Creek 
Valley,  people  said,  was  all  taken  up  by  farms.  The 
railroad  route  from  Leavenworth  down  to  the  Kansas 
River  at  Lawrence  certainly  passed  through  nothing 
but  farms  and  settlements,  and  on  up  the  Kansas  to 
the  Smoky  Hill  Fork  at  Junction  City  all  the  country 
was  farms,  farms,  farms,  punctuated  by  towns  and 
cities. 

339 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Along  the  Smoky  Hill  Fork  trail  a  number  of  new 
forts  had  been  established,  protecting  the  way  for  the 
railroad.  First  beyond  Fort  Riley,  which  Davy  re- 
membered from  the  time  when  the  Hee-Haws  passed 
it,  was  Fort  Harker,  next  would  come  Fort  Hays,  and 
then  Fort  Wallace  near  Sheridan. 

The  train  left  Leaven  worth  early  in  the  morning; 
the  run  to  the  end  of  the  track  would  take  about 
twenty-five  hours,  with  stops  for  meals.  It  would 
appear,  from  the  looks  of  the  country  between  Law- 
rence and  Junction  City  across  the  river  from  Fort 
Riley,  that  there  were  no  more  wild  Indians  and  buf- 
falo; but  westward  from  Junction  City  things  sud- 
denly changed ;  and  when  Dave  awakened  from  a  brief 
doze  here  were  the  same  old  brown  plains  again,  ready 
for  the  bull  whacker,  the  stage  coach,  the  buffalo  and 
the  Indians. 

The  train  was  jammed  with  all  kinds  of  people 
from  St.  Louis,  Kansas  City,  Leavenworth,  Lawrence, 
Topeka — everybody  having  a  good  time.  In  the  last 
car  were  Mrs.  Cody  and  little  daughter  Arta.  Davy 
had  a  glimpse  of  her — a  handsome  woman  with  glow- 
ing dark  eyes.  Buffalo  Bill  had  met  her  during  the 
war,  in  St.  Louis,  and  they  had  been  married  two  years 
now.  She  and  little  Arta  and  General  Custer  were 
the  main  attraction  on  the  whole  train. 

The  train  was  a  travelling  arsenal.  At  the  front- 
end  of  Davy's  car  was  a  stand  containing  twenty-five 
breech-loading  rifles  and  a  large  chest  of  cartridges. 

340 


BUFFALO  BILL  IS  CHAMPION 

with  the  lid  opened.  The  conductor  (who,  people 
said,  was  an  old  Indian  fighter)  wore  two  revolvers 
at  his  waist,  and  carried  his  rifle  from  car  to  car. 
Almost  every  man  was  armed  with  some  sort  of  a  gun, 
and  all  the  passengers  and  train  crew  were  constantly 
on  the  lookout  for  "  Injuns  "  and  buffalo.  As  the 
train  roared  onward  further  into  the  plains,  its  snorty, 
busy  little  engine  sounded  five  short  whistles.  Out 
from  the  windows  down  the  line  of  coaches  were  thrust 
heads.  Men  who  had  no  gun  made  a  rush  for  the 
stand  of  arms,  and  grabbed  rifles  and  cartridges. 

"Buffalo!    Buffalo!" 

"Where?    Quick!" 

"  There  they  go !  " 

"Where?    Oh,  I  see  them !" 

'*  Mercy,  what  monsters !  " 

There  were  people  aboard  who  actually  never  had 
seen  a  buffalo. 

"What  beards!" 

"  Are  those  really  buffalo?  " 

"Shoot!" 

"  Conductor !     Stop  the  train !  " 

Bang!  Bangity-bang !  Bang!  Bang!  Every- 
body who  could  get  a  glimpse  poked  his  gun  out  of  a 
window  and  fired.  Two  big  buffalo  bulls  were  racing 
the  train ;  heads  down,  tails  up,  trying  to  cross  in  front 
of  it.  The  rain  of  bullets  had  not  touched  them.  One 
crossed;  but  the  other  suddenly  whirled  on  the  track 
and  charged  the  engine.  The  cow-catcher  lifted  him 

341 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

high — Davy  had  sight  of  his  great  shaggy  shape  turn- 
ing a  somersault  in  the  air,  and  funny  enough  he 
looked,  too,  with  mane  and  tail  flying.  He  landed  with 
a  thump;  people  laughed  so  that  they  forgot  to  shoot 
again  until  too  late;  and  gazing  back  Davy  was  glad 
to  witness  him  scramble  to  his  feet,  shake  himself,  and 
glare  after  the  train  and  bellow  defiance. 

It  struck  Dave  as  rather  of  a  shame  to  pepper  the 
buffalo  from  the  windows  of  a  moving  train — which, 
he  heard,  sometimes  did  not  even  stop  to  make  use 
of  the  meat,  but  left  the  carcasses  lying  for  the  wolves. 
Dusk  soon  settled,  so  that  there  was  little  more  shoot- 
ing. With  a  stop  for  water  and  supper,  on  through 
the  darkness  rumbled  the  train.  The  passengers  slept 
in  their  seats — an  uncomfortable  way,  but  they  did 
not  mind.  Judging  from  the  looks  of  Forts  Harker 
and  Hays,  which  were  merely  log  cabins  with  sod 
roofs,  the  cars  were  the  best  place. 

The  talk  among  the  passengers  was  mainly  of  buf- 
falo and  of  the  Indians  (who  had  been  fighting  the 
advance  of  the  railroad  through  their  hunting- 
grounds),  and  of  the  match  between  Buffalo  Bill  Cody 
and  Scout  Will  Comstock. 

As  for  Will  Comstock,  the  people  said  that  he  was 
a  young  fellow  with  the  figure  of  a  mere  boy  and  the 
face  of  a  girl — but  that  no  braver  scout  ever  rode  the 
plains.  However,  Billy  Cody  seemed  to  have  the  ma- 
jority. He  had  been  making  a  great  record  since  the 
war.  He  had  driven  stage  for  a  little  while  on  the 

342 


BUFFALO  BILL  IS  CHAMPION 

Overland  Trail ;  then  he  had  married ;  and  soon  he  was 
scouting  again  for  the  army  on  the  Smoky  Hill  Trail. 
He  had  guided  General  Custer  on  a  dangerous  trip 
out  of  Fort  Harker,  and  had  been  guide  and  dispatch 
bearer  out  of  Fort  Hays,  and  nobody  except  Wild  Bill 
(who  was  a  scout  on  this  line,  too)  was  thought  to  be 
quite  his  equal. 

Almost  as  famous  as  Buffalo  Bill  were  his  buffalo 
horse,  Brigham,  and  his  rifle,  Lucretia;  against  these 
three  Billy  Comstock,  good  as  he  was,  did  not  stand 
much  show. 

It  was  a  jolly  excursion  crowd  this:  soldiers  and 
civilians,  city  people  and  country  people,  residents  and 
tourists,  men,  women  and  some  children,  all  packed 
tight  and  bent  on  seeing  the  "  big  match  "  advertised 
to  take  place  between  Buffalo  Bill  Cody  and  Will 
Comstock,  the  other  famous  scout. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  tracks  ended  about  twenty 
miles  this  side  of  Sheridan.  And  here,  on  the  open 
prairie,  were  gathered  an  astonishing  amount  of  ve- 
hicles, animals  and  horsemen.  The  spot  looked  like  a 
land  opening — or  a  picnic.  Davy  recognized  Billy 
Cody  at  once. 

With  a  group  of  army  officers,  scouts  in  buckskin, 
and  other  horsemen,  Billy  was  sitting  on  his  horse  at 
the  edge  of  the  mass  of  carriages.  The  train-load  of 
excursionists  fairly  burst  from  the  cars,  even  climbing 
out  through  the  windows,  and  made  a  rush  for  the 
vehicles.  Davy  forged  ahead  for  Billy  Cody.  Billy 

343 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

had  left  his  horse  and  when  Davy  saw  him  next  he  was 
gallantly  escorting  his  wife  and  little  daughter  to  an 
army  ambulance;  as  he  came  back  Dave  caught  him. 

"  Hello,  Billy." 

"By  thunder!  That  name  sounds  familiar, 
Dave!  Well,  I'm  certainly  glad  to  see  you." 

They  gripped  hands.  As  Buffalo  Bill,  Billy  looked 
older  than  he  had  as  Scout  Cody,  even,  during  the  war. 
His  face  had  been  bronzed  deeper  by  hard  plains 
riding,  day  and  night,  and  on  his  firm  chin  he  wore  a 
little  goatee.  His  suit  of  Indian  tanned  buckskin  was 
beaded  and  fringed,  and  fitted  him  to  perfection.  A 
fine  figure  of  a  man  he  was,  too;  every  inch  of  him. 

There  was  little  time  to  exchange  greetings  or 
words.  Everything  was  confusion — and  the  day 
would  soon  pass. 

"  Go  in  and  win,  Billy." 

"  You  bet  I  will,  Dave." 

And  with  that  Billy  strode  hastily  back  to  his 
horse — brushing  by  the  many  hands  held  out  to  stay 
him  a  moment. 

The  match  was  to  last  from  eight  in  the  morning 
to  four  in  the  afternoon  if  buffalo  could  be  found. 
Slim  and  active,  and  as  picturesque  as  Buffalo  Bill 
himself,  General  Custer,  from  horseback,  announced 
in  a  loud  voice  that  the  spectators  were  to  follow  the 
hunters  until  the  herd  was  sighted  and  then  must  stay 
behind  so  as  not  to  alarm  the  buffalo,  until  the  shoot- 

344 


BUFFALO  BILL  IS  CHAMPION 

ing  had  begun.  After  that  they  might  go  as  near  as 
they  pleased. 

Buffalo  Bill  and  Scout  Comstock  led  away ;  behind 
them  rode  the  horsemen,  chiefly  scouts  and  army  offi- 
cers. A  large  bunch  of  cavalry  mounts  had  been  sent 
out  from  Fort  Wallace,  near  Sheridan,  for  the  visitor 
officers,  and  Davy  (who  was  almost  an  officer)  was 
accorded  the  courtesy  of  one.  So  he  was  well  fixed. 
Trailing  the  horsemen  came  the  excursionists  in  army 
ambulances  and  old  coaches  and  spring  wagons  and 
even  buggies — raked  and  scraped  from  far  and  near. 

Thus  they  all  proceeded  across  the  rolling  prairie. 
The  scene  resembled  a  picnic  more  than  ever. 

Buffalo  Bill,  the  talk  said,  was  riding  Brigham,  his 
favorite  buffalo  runner — and  a  scrubby  looking  horse 
Brigham  was,  too,  for  a  hunter  and  a  racer.  Billy's 
gun  was  a  heavy,  long-barrelled  single-shot — a  breech- 
loading  Springfield  army  gun  of  fifty  calibre. 

Will  Comstock  was  apparently  much  better 
mounted  and  better  armed.  His  horse  was  a  strong, 
active,  spirited  black,  and  his  gun  was  a  Henry  re- 
peating carbine.  He  himself  seemed  a  young  fellow 
to  be  chief  of  scouts  at  Fort  Wallace;  his  face  was 
smooth  and  fair,  his  eyes  roundly  blue,  and  his  waist 
was  as  small  as  a  girl's. 

Suddenly  Buffalo  Bill  raised  his  hand;  and  at  the 
instant  a  hum  of  excitement  welled  from  the  crowd. 
There  were  some  buffalo — there,  about  a  mile  ahead 
on  the  right,  a  good-sized  herd,  peacefully  grazing. 

345 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

Away  sped  Buffalo  Bill  and  Scout  Comstock  and  two 
other  horsemen,  to  get  to  the  windward.  The  two 
other  horsemen  were  the  referees,  one  to  accompany 
each  hunter  and  keep  tab  on  him. 

The  rest  of  the  crowd  followed  slowly,  so  as  to  give 
the  hunters  plenty  of  time  to  begin. 

On  and  on  spurred  the  group  of  four.  They 
swerved  for  the  buffalo  herd;  and  separating,  as  if  by 
agreement,  into  pairs,  dashed  into  the  herd  that  way — 
Buffalo  Bill  and  his  referee  on  the  right,  Scout  Com- 
stock and  his  referee  on  the  left.  As  soon  as  the  first 
shot  echoed  back  across  the  prairie,  the  cry  went  up: 
"They're  in!  They're  in!"  and  wildly  excited, 
straight  for  the  field  broke  the  eager  spectators. 

The  wagons  jounced  and  bounded,  the  horses  and 
mules  snorted,  women  screamed,  men  shouted — and 
better  equipped  than  those  other  excursionists,  on  horse- 
back amidst  his  army  friends  Davy  forged  to  the 
front. 

When  they  arrived  the  contest  was  well  under  way. 
Scout  Comstock  had  ridden  almost  out  of  sight,  pelt- 
ing along  and  shooting  into  the  rear  of  his  bunch.  He 
had  left  a  trail  of  dead  buffalo,  as  if  he  had  made  every 
shot  count.  Buffalo  Bill,  however,  was  right  here, 
working  by  a  different  system.  Evidently  he  had 
hastened  to  the  head  of  his  bunch  first,  and  turned  them 
— until  now  he  had  them  all  actually  running  in  a 
small  circle.  He  was  riding  around  the  outside  at  an 
easy  lope  on  Brigham,  and  steadily  firing,  oftentimes 

S4G 


BUFFALO  BILL  IS  CHAMPION 

without  raising  his  gun  from  across  the  saddle  horn 

Brigham's  bridle  lines  were  hanging  loose.  He 
needed  no  guiding.  He  knew  just  what  was  to  be  done. 
He  loped  to  the  side  of  a  buffalo  and  stayed  there  a 
moment  until  the  gun  went  "  Bang!  "  Then,  even  be- 
fore the  buffalo  had  fallen,  he  loped  on  to  another,  put 
his  master  in  good  position,  and  at  the  report  of  the 
rifle  continued  to  the  next! 

"A  wonderful  horse!  A  wonderful  horse!" 
ejaculated  General  Brown.  "  Why,  teach  that  horse 
to  shoot  and  he  wouldn't  need  a  rider.  Bill  could  sit 
and  look  on !  " 

"  He  nurses  the  buffalo  together  and  all  Bill  has  to 
do  is  to  load  and  fire.  He  scarcely  needs  to  aim,"  said 
another  officer. 

Presently  Buffalo  Bill  had  shot  down  every  buffalr 
in  the  bunch;  there  were  thirty-eight,  dead  as  door- 
nails. When  Bill  Comstock  returned,  his  horse  blown, 
from  chasing  his  bunch  as  far  as  he  could,  his  referee 
reported  twenty-three  as  that  count. 

The  horses  were  rested  until  another  herd  appeared. 
Out  of  this  Buffalo  Bill  killed  eighteen  with  the  help 
of  old  Brigham,  and  Billy  Comstock  killed  fourteen. 
So  at  noon  the  score  stood:  Buffalo  Bill  (and 
Brigham),  fifty-six;  Billy  Comstock  only  thirty-seven. 

Luncheon  was  spread  out  on  the  prairie  by  the  ex- 
cursionists and  everybody  ate.  The  opinion  was  that 
Buffalo  Bill  had  won ;  Billy  Comstock  never  could  catch 
up — not  even  if  they  traded  horses! 

S47 


BUFFALO  BILL  AND  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIL 

After  luncheon  Buffalo  Bill  suddenly  stood,  and, 
going  to  Brigham,  quickly  stripped  him  of  saddle  and 
bridle. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  announced  Billy,  "  in 
order  to  give  my  friend  Comstock  a  chance  I'm  going 
to  finish  my  hunt  without  saddle  and  bridle — and 
even  then  I'll  wager  I'll  down  more  buffalo  than  he 
will." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Cody!  Please  don't!"  begged  one  of 
the  women  excursionists,  who  had  been  nervous  all 
along.  "  You'll  certainly  be  hurt." 

Buffalo  Bill  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"  There's  not  the  slightest  cause  for  alarm,"  he 
said.  "I've  ridden  this  way  many  a  time.  Old 
Brigham  knows  as  well  as  I  what's  to  be  done — and 
sometimes  a  great  deal  better." 

Riding  thus  without  saddle  and  bridle,  out  of  the 
next  herd  Buffalo  Bill,  so  cleverly  guided  by  Brigham, 
easily  killed  thirteen  more  buffaloes.  The  last  he  drove 
with  a  rush  straight  toward  the  spectators,  and  laughed 
as  he  downed  it  almost  at  their  feet.  Slipping  from 
his  bareback  seat,  he  doffed  his  hat  and  bowed. 

"You  see?"  he  bade. 

Scout  Comstock  came  in  with  a  count  of  only  nine. 

"  I'm  done,"  he  said  frankly.  "  How  many  in  all, 
Bill?" 

"  Sixty-nine." 

"  Forty-six  here."  And  he  shrugged  his  slender 
shoulders.  te  Well,  Bill,  you're  a  wonder.  There's  not 

348 


BUFFALO  BILL  IS  CHAMPION 

another  man  on  the  plains  could  have  done  it.  Ladies 
and  gentlemen,"  he  called,  "  three  cheers  for  Buffalo 
Bill  Cody,  the  boy  '  extra,'  the  kid  express  rider,  the 
champion  buffalo  hunter,  and  the  best  man  that  ever 
rode  the  plains." 

****** 

The  excursion  train  returned  that  night,  and  Davy 
returned  with  it.  But  Buffalo  Bill  stayed  out  on  the 
plains,  scouting  for  the  army  against  the  Indians. 
Davy  kept  track  of  him,  for  the  name  of  "  Buffalo 
Bill,"  dispatch  bearer  and  guide,  was  constantly  in  the 
papers.  When  in  June,  1869,  Davy  graduated  from 
the  Military  Academy,  and  soon  was  assigned  to  the 
Fifth  Cavalry  in  Nebraska,  Buffalo  Bill  had  been  ap- 
pointed by  General  Phil  Sheridan  as  chief  of  scouts 
to  serve  with  it. 

This  spring  the  Union  Pacific  Railway  had  met  the 
Central  Pacific  Railway  in  Utah  and  the  tracks  joined. 
The  Overland  Trail  had  been  spanned  at  last  by  iron 
rails ;  but  there  was  still  much  work  to  be  done  to  make 
the  plains  safe  for  the  settler,  his  home,  his  church  and 
his  school-house;  and  helping  to  do  it,  Dave  and 
Buffalo  Bill  often  rode  together,  man  and  maiL 


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